


Silhouette

by Woods2006gal



Series: Addison Sloan series [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:17:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 90,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woods2006gal/pseuds/Woods2006gal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seventh in Addison Sloan Series. With new threats, how do the Winchesters and Addison deal with them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet the Boss

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Supernatural. I, however, own the original characters.

The tension in the room was so thick that it felt like it was suffocating her. Addison looks between Dean and Castiel. She glances at Bobby and watches as the older hunter kneels down. “Well, all right then,” Bobby says, looking between the hunter and the angel. “Is this good or you want the whole forehead to the carpet thing? Guys?”

Addison starts to kneel down with Dean and Sam. “Stop,” Castiel says. “What’s the point if you don’t mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect, just fear.”

“Cas…” Sam begins, taking a step forward.

Castiel turns to Sam. “Sam, you have nothing to say to me; you stabbed me in the back.” He turns back to Bobby, Addison, and Dean. “Get up.”

“Cas, come on, this isn’t you,” Dean says as they stand up.

“The Castiel you knew is gone.”

“So, are you going to kill us then,” Addison asks.

Castiel stares at her before turning to Dean. “What a brave little ant you are. You know you’re powerless, you wouldn’t dare move against me again. That would be pointless. So, I have no need to kill you. Not now. Besides, once you were my favorite pets before you turned and bit me.”

Dean stares at his friend. “Who are you?”

“I’m God. And if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. Not doing so well, are you, Sam.”

“I’m fine,” Sam replies. He notices the worried look on his older brother’s face. “I’m fine.”

An angry look cross Dean’s face. “You said you would fix him — you promised.”

“If you stood down, which you hardly did,” Castiel reminds. “Be thankful for my mercy. I could have cast you back into the pit.”

“Cas, come on, this is nuts! You can turn this around, please!”

“I hope for you sake this is the last time you see me,” Castiel tells them, then disappears.

Addison lets out a relived breath. She looks at the guys and sees them lost in their own thoughts. Her gaze darts back over to Sam and she sees his nose bleeding. “Sam,” she softly asks, concern laced in her voice.

“Sam, you okay,” Dean asks. Suddenly, Sam falls down, cutting his hand on broken glass. The three hunters surround him, each with worried looks on their faces.

* * *

The toilet flushes as Addison looks at her reflection in the dusty mirror. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She runs a hand through her freshly bleached hair. Dean had devoted all of his time and energy to restoring the Impala, which meant they had barely talked. She had called Patrick and had been relived to know that he was okay. Sarah was still hiding out, but was okay. “Ads.” She turns to see Sam standing in the bathroom doorway. He had woken up the day before. Addison smiles and hugs him. His hug is tight and she closes her eyes, savoring the moment. He pulls back, but keeps his hands on her. “I didn’t get to see you yesterday,” Sam says.

“I might have been asleep or at the grocery store,” Addison replies. “How are you?”

“Been better.” Sam frowns, noticing the bandage on her right hand. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh. Um, Cas. He took some of my blood for that spell.”

“Are Patrick and Sarah okay?”

Addison smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, they’re fine. Dad’s going about his every day life, but he’s staying at Sarah’s. Since she has it demon and angel proof. And Sarah has decided to now hide out in Monte Carlo.”

Sam scoffs. “That sounds exactly like something she would do.”

Addison shifts. “You remember everything from when you didn’t have a soul.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Addison nods. “Okay.”

* * *

“Believed to be target hits high up in white supremacy organizations,” the radio announcer says. “The FBI now believe the Ku Klux Klan has been forced to disband.” Over the past few days, they kept hearing about the things that Castiel was doing.

Dean shakes his head. He was sitting in the Impala, working on the new passenger side window. “Can’t argue with that one.”

“Hey.” He looks up to see Addison standing next to the door. She held a plate of apple pie in one hand and a bottle of his favorite beer in the other. “How’s it going,” she asks, setting the plate and beer down on the work bench.

“Fine,” Dean replies, climbing out of the Impala. He eyes the pie and the beer, then sighs. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?” Dean’s gaze goes between her and the pie. “What? I can’t do something nice?”

“You? No.” Addison rolls her eyes. “What do you want?”

“I get it. You’re pissed.”

“You mean because you hid something from me. Again. No, I’m not pissed, Addison.”

“Look, I was going to tell you. I really was. But then everything happened. I only found out the day before.”

Dean frowns. “You didn’t know that Cas was working with Crowley?”

“What?! No! Believe me, if I knew that I would’ve told you the moment I found out. I…I thought you were pissed because I didn’t tell you about that my blood could be used to open the door to Purgatory.“

“You knew that your blood could be used to open a door to monsterland,” Dean angrily says.

“Sarah said it was a possibility. But she wasn’t sure. I only just found out. And I wanted to make sure that Dad and Sarah were safe.” 

* * *

“Freak lightning strike on the heels of the fire that burned down the Center for Vibration Enlightenment today. Said a spokesman, ‘This tragedy represents the largest loss in New Age motivational speaker history,’” an announcer says over the radio.

Sam frowns and looks at Dean over the Impala’s hood. “Motivational speakers?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure new Cas gets irony any better than old Cas,” Dean replies as Sam turns off the radio. Dean moves out from under the hood and gently lowers it. “Of course, old Cas wouldn’t smite Madison Square Garden just to prove a point. He is off the deep end of the deep end. And there’s no slowing down.”

“So what? Try to talk to him again?”

“Sam—”

“Dean, all we can do is talk to the guy.”

“He’s not a guy, he’s God. And he’s pissed. And when God gets righteous, you get the hell out of the way. Haven’t you read the Bible?”

Sam sighs. “I guess.”

“Cas is never coming back. He’s lied to us, used us, he cracked your gourd like it was nothing. No more talk. We’ve spent enough on him.”

“Okay.”

“Hand me that socket wrench.”

Sam grabs the wrench off the work table and hands it to his older brother. “How’s Addison doing? She seemed upset when I saw her earlier.”

Dean shakes his head, turning his attention back to the Impala. “It’d be nice if she would stop keeping shit from me. Hell, she fucking knew that Cas could use her blood to crack open Purgatory. Not to mention you were alive for a year and she didn’t fucking tell me.”

“Dude, you can’t pissed at her for that. I asked her not to tell you and as much as she disagreed with it, she respected my decision. She was the same way when I was with Ruby and on demon blood. You need to forgive her.”

* * *

A month goes by with the hunters laying low. Dean devoted most of his time to restoring the Impala with Sam and Bobby pitching in at times. They all kept a close watch on what Castiel was doing through the news. “She’s looking good. Considering,” Bobby comments as he stands in the shed with Dean and Addison looking at a ready to be painted Impala.

“Considering,” Dean repeats, taking a beer from the older hunter. “I should do this professionally.”

“It would pay a hell of a lot better,” Addison says.

Dean nods in agreement as he opens his beer. “So, you seen Sam lately,” Bobby asks.

“Yeah, why,” Dean replies. Bobby remains silent and Dean looks at him. “What? Well, spit it out.”

Bobby sighs. “How is that kid even vertical? I mean, Cas broke his damn pinata.”

“I know.”

“I mean, I get how he came to help up back at the lab. Adrenaline. Sure. But now?”

“Well, he says he’s okay.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I just pray to God it’s true.”

“We need to come up with a new saying for that.”

“Seriously, though, Bobby. I mean, look at our lives. How many more hits can we take? So if Sam says he’s good, good.”

“You believe that?”

“Yeah.” Bobby stares at him. “No,” Dean confesses. “You wanna know why? Because we never catch a break. So why would we this time? But just — just this one thing, you know? But I’m not dumb. I’m not gonna get my hopes up just to get kicked in the daddy pills again.”

“Hey.” They turn and see Sam making his way into the shed.

“Oh. How you feeling, sport,” Bobby asks.

“Can’t complain,” Sam replies.

“Great. What’s the word,” Dean asks.

“Well, a publishing house literally exploded about an hour ago. Guys, the body count is really getting up there. We gotta do something.”

“What we gotta do is hunt the son of bitch. Unfortunately, I lost my God gun,” Bobby says.

“Well, is there some kind of heavenly weapon? I mean, maybe something out of that angel arsenal that Balthazar stole? There’s gotta be something that can hurt him.”

“He’s God, Sam,” Dean reminds. “There’s nothing. But there might be someone.”

* * *

Addison lights the match and tosses it into the bowl of herbs as the hunters stand around Bobby’s basement. Instantly, Crowley appears in the devil’s trap that was painted on the floor. A bottle of whiskey and a glass were in his hands. The demon looks around. “No. No, no,” he exclaims. “Come on.”

“Don’t act so surprised,” Bobby tells him.

“My new boss is gonna kill me for even talking to you lot.”

Dean glares. “You’re lucky we’re not stabbing you, you scuzzy piece—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam interrupts. “What new boss?”

“Castiel, you giraffe,” Crowley answers.

“Cas is your boss,” Addison replies.

“He’s everybody’s boss. What do you think he’ll do when he finds out we’ve been conspiring?” The hunters stare at the demon. “You do wanna conspire, don’t you?”

“No. We want you to stand there and look pretty,” Bobby snaps.

Crowley nods. “Listening.”

“We need a spell to bind Death,” Dean says.

“Bind,” Crowley repeats. “Enslave Death? You having a laugh?”

“Lucifer did it.”

“That’s Lucifer.”

“A spell is a spell,” Sam argues.

“You really believe you can handle that horsepower?”

“Death is the only player left that has the kind of juice to take Cas,” Dean counters.

“They’ll both mash us like peas. Why should I help on a suicide mission?”

“Do you really want Cas running the universe,” Addison asks. Crowley’s response is to pour some whiskey in his glass and drink it.

* * *

The next day, the trio are sitting around the den, researching, when Bobby enters the room with a Fed-Ex envelope. He opens it and pulls out a piece of parchment as the trio walks over to him. “It’s from Crowley,” Bobby says, showing Dean the parchment that had a post it on it.

“Well, who feels like hog tying Death tonight,” Dean asks.

Bobby shrugs. “Old age is overrated anyhow.”

A few hours later, they’re spread out over the den, researching. “We got most of this stuff, but we have to make a run for a few things,” Bobby says, breaking the silence.

“Like,” Dean questions.

“Like an act of God crystallized forever.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Sam asks.

“Thinking it means an actual crystal. See, lighting strikes sand at the right angle, it crystallizes into the perfect shape of itself.”

“Lightning. Act of God.”

“Jenga. You got yourself a fulgurite. We’re gonna need a biggie.”

“And let me guess. Rare,” Dean says.

“I found the records of an auction. Winning bidder lives about nine hours from here.”

* * *

The people who owned the crystal lived in a large stone house in a large suburban neighborhood. Sam, Bobby, and Addison climb out of the Impala and make their way to the house. Sam and Addison stand guard while Bobby cuts the security system. “Hey.” The group turns and sees a security guard.

“Excuse me, got any Grey Poupon,” Dean asks, walking up behind the guard. The guard turns and Dean slams his flashlight into the guard’s face.

The guard falls to the ground, unconscious. Sam and Addison stare in disbelief at Dean. “Grey Poupon? Seriously,” Sam asks.

Dean shrugs. “It’s what popped in my head.”

Addison rolls her eyes and turns back. After Bobby finishes disabling the security system, the group makes their way into the house and split up. Coming up empty handed, they met up with Bobby before going to look for Dean.

They find him in the den, finishing tying up a middle aged couple. “Hey, guys,” Dean greets. “Uh, so this is Dr. and Mrs. Weiss.”

“Hi,” Sam says, glaring at Dean.

“I found the God thingy.”

Bobby brushes past him and places a duffle bag on a large oak desk. “Well, let’s light this candle.”

After getting everything set up for the spell, Bobby chants in Latin. The house rumbles with some of the glass cases breaking and books falling off shelves. Then it suddenly stops. “Um…hello? Death,” Dean calls, looking around the room.

“You’re joking,” Death says, appearing in the room behind Dean.

Dean spins around. “Sorry, Death. This isn’t what it seems.”

“Seems like you bound me,” Death argues, holding up his hands to reveal a shimmering rope.

“For good reason, okay? Just, uh, hear us out. Um…Fried pickle chip,” Dean asks, moving to grab a paper bag off an end table. “The best in the state.”

“That easy to soothe me, you think? This is about Sam’s hallucinations, I assume?”

The hunters glance at Sam. “What,” Dean asks, looking between his brother and Death.

“Sorry, Sam, one wall per customer. Now unbind me.”

“We can’t,” Sam tells him. “Yet.”

“This isn’t gonna end well,” Death tells Dean.

“We need you to kill God,” Dean replies.

“Pardon?”

“Kill God,” Bobby repeats. “You heard right, Your Honor.”

“What makes you think I can do that?”

“You told me,” Dean snaps.

Death turns to Dean. “Why should I?”

“Because we said so and we’re the boss of you.” Dean ignores the three disbelievingly looks sent his way. “I mean, respectfully.”

“Amazing.” The hunters turn and see Castiel standing there. His face was red and it looked as if pieces of skin were peeling off.

“Cas,” Addison nervously greets, backing away from the former angel.

“I don’t want to kill you. But now—”

“You can’t kill us,” Dean interrupts.

Castiel raises a hand. “You’ve erased any nostalgia I had for you, Dean.”

“Death is our bitch. We ain’t gonna die even if God pulls the trigger.”

“Annoying little protozoa, aren’t they,” Death comments. “God? You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel is melting. You’re going to explode.”

“No, I’m not,” Castiel argues. “When I’ve finished my work, I’ll repair myself.”

“You think you can, because you think you’re simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that’s not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in Purgatory and you gulped those in too.”

“Irrelevant. I control them.”

“For the moment.”

“Wait. Uh, what old things,” Dean questions, looking between Castiel and Death.

“Long before God created angel or man, he made the first beasts,” Death explains. “The Leviathans.”

“Leviathans?”

“I personally found them entertaining, but he was concerned they’d chomp the entire Petri dish. So he locked them away. Why do you think he created Purgatory? To keep those clever, poisonous things out. Now, Castiel has swallowed them. He’s the one thin membrane between the Old Ones and your home.”

“Enough,” Castiel orders.

“Stupid little soldier you are.”

Castiel moves towards Death. “Why? Because I dared open a door that He shut? Where is He? I did a service taking His place.”

“Service? Settling petty vendettas?”

“No. I’m cleaning up one mess after another, selflessly.”

“Quite the humanitarian.”

“And how would you know? What are you really? A flyswatter?“

“Destined to swat you, I think.”

“Unless I take you first.”

“Really bought his own press, this one,” Death tells the hunters. “Please, Cas, I know God. And you, sir, are no God.”

“All right, put your junk away, both of you. Look, call him what you want, just kill him now,” Dean demands. Castiel slowly turns and looks at Dean.

“All right, fine,” Death says, raising a hand. Castiel snaps his fingers and the shimmering rope around Death’s wrists vanishes. “Thank you. Shall we kickbox now?” Death walks over to a chair and sits down. “I had a tingle I’d be reaping someone very, very soon.” He  glances at the terrified couple tied up across the room. “Don’t worry, not you.” Castiel vanishes and they stare at the spot he was standing at. “Well, he was in a hurry.”

The hunters exchange a look. They were all confused about what to do. “Do something,” Addison mouths to Dean.

Dean clears his throat. “Um…”

“Shut up, Dean,” Death says. “I’m not here to tie your shoes every time you trip. I warned you about those souls how long ago? Long enough to stop that fool. And here we are again, with your little planet on the edge of immolation.”

“Well, I’m sorry, all right,” Dean replies as Death stands up. “I’ve been trying to save this planet. So maybe you should find somebody better to tip off.”

“Maybe I should spend my effort on a better planet. Well, it’s been amusing.”

“Wait, hold on,” Sam says, stepping forward. Death looks at him. “Give us something. You have to care a little bit about what happens to us.”

“You know, I really don’t. But I do find that little angel arrogant.”

“Great, let’s go with that,” Dean says.

“Your only hope is to have him return it all to Purgatory. Quickly.”

“We need a door,” Addison reminds.

“You have everything you need at that lab. Get him to return there and compel him to give up the power.”

“Compel,” Dean disbelievingly repeats.

“Figure it out.”

“But that door only opens in the eclipse. And that’s over,” Bobby comments.

“I’ll make another. Three fifty-nine, Sunday morning, just before dawn. Be punctual.” Death turns to Dean. “Don’t thank me. Clean up your mess.” Death starts to walk away, but stops. “Try to bind me again, you’ll die before you start. Nice pickle chips, by the way.”

* * *

Dean’s sitting at the table in Bobby’s kitchen with Addison’s laptop and a bottle of whiskey. If the world was gonna end, he was gonna spend it relaxing the best he could. “You want some coffee with that,” Sam asks, entering the kitchen with his pack over his shoulder and a jacket.

Dean shrugs. “Ah, it’s six p.m. somewhere.”

“We gotta hit the road. I mean, how are we supposed to get Cas to that lab by fucking 3:59 a.m.?”

“We don’t.“

Sam stares at his older brother in disbelief. “What do you we mean ‘we don’t?’”

“I mean we can’t bring the horse to water and we can’t make it drink. Why fool ourselves?”

“Dean, look. I know you think that Cas is gone.”

“That’s because he is.”

“He’s not. He’s in there somewhere, Dean. I know it.”

“No, you don’t.”

“No, I don’t. But, look, I was pretty far gone sometimes myself and you never gave up on me.”

“Yeah, and turns out that you’re about the same open book as you’ve always been. Hallucinations? Really? I gotta find out from Death?”

Sam shifts. “What was I supposed to do?”

“How ‘bout not lie? How ‘bout tell me that you’ve got crazy shit climbing those walls?”

“Why? You can’t help. You got a lot of pretty severe shit swinging your way lately and I — I thought — what — I thought why burst one of the good bubbles you had left? It’s under control.”

“What? What exactly is under control?”

“I know what’s real, what’s not.”

Dean shakes his head, angry. “Sam—”

“Dean, look, we can debate this once we deal with Cas.”

Dean nods. “You know how I’m gonna deal? I’m gonna stuff my pie hole, I’m gonna drink. And I’m gonna watch some Asian cartoon porn and act like the world is about to explode because it is.” He turns back to the laptop and finds that a news website had popped up. “Hey. You gotta be kidding me.” Sam walks around and sees the video of Castiel on the screen. “‘Massacre at the campaign office of an incumbent senator by a trench coated man.’ There’s security footage.” Dean plays the video and the brothers watch as Castiel eerily smiles up at the surveillance camera before it flickers out. Dean picks up his whiskey and drinks. “Well, I think reaching Cas is, uh, out of the cards.” Sam sighs and walks out of the kitchen as Dean switches back to the cartoon porn.

A couple of hours later, Addison enters the kitchen to find Dean sitting at the table with her laptop and a glass of whiskey in his hand. She stares at him for a moment, then shakes her head and moves over to the sink. “Why are you watching porn on my computer,” she tiredly asks.

“Did you forget that the world’s ending,” Dean replies.

“Doesn’t mean you can use my computer to watch cartoon porn.”

Sam walks in and Dean pours him a glass of whiskey. “Only if you turn that off,” he tells his older brother.

Dean reluctantly shuts the laptop and slides the whiskey across the table. Sam sighs and sits down. “Sam?” The hunters turn at the familiar voice and see Castiel. The former angel was covered in blood.

“Cas,” Sam says, standing.

“I heard your call.” Castiel collapses against the wall. He looks up at his friends. “I need help.”

* * *

By the time they get Castiel to the lab, his condition had worsened. Sam and Addison rest the angel against an old cabinet while Dean and Bobby prepare the rest of the spell. “We need the right blood. There’s a small jar. End of the hall, supply closet,” Castiel tells them.

Sam nods. “Got it,” he says, then walks out of the lab.

“Dean.”

Dean turns to his friend. “What, you need something else?”

“No. I feel regret. About you and what I did to Sam.”

“Yeah, well, you should.”

“If there was time, if I was strong enough, I’d fix him now. I just wanted to make amends before I die.”

“Okay.”

Castiel pauses. “Is it working?”

“Does it make you feel better?”

“No. You?”

“Not a bit.”

Castiel turns to Addison, who was still kneeling next to him and had a hand on his shoulder. “Addison, I’m sorry.”

Addison squeezes his shoulder. “Hang in there, Cas. We don’t have long left.”

Bobby nods in agreement as he makes his way over to Dean. “Where’s Sam? It’s go time,” he quietly says.

Dean looks  around the lab before walking out. The hallway was empty. He stops when he finds a jar of blood on the ground. “Sam,” he calls out, but there’s no answer. “Damn it.” He grabs the jar and makes his way back to the lab. He immediately gets to work drawing the symbol needed for the spell.

“Good enough,” Bobby says as he finishes. He and Addison help Castiel stand. They guide him over to the symbol, then quickly back away as Dean joins them. Bobby reads out the ritual while the others look on.

Dean rushes forward when Castiel collapses and pulls the angel upright. The symbol starts glowing on the wall and Castiel looks back at them. “I’m sorry, Dean,” the angel tells them as wind picks up.

Bobby finishes reading the ritual and the wall opens up. A bright light shoots out Castiel’s chest and into the hole. The light suddenly vanishes and Castiel falls to the ground. “Cas,” Dean questions as the hunters run over to him. They kneel on the ground and Dean rolls Castiel onto his back.

Addison touches Castiel’s neck. “He’s cold,” she states.

“Is he breathing,” Dean asks, reaching up to check.

“No.”

“Maybe angels don’t need to breathe.”

“He’s gone, Dean,” Bobby replies.

Addison places a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Damn it,” Dean quietly says, looking away. They stand up and look down at their fallen friend. “Cas, you child. Why didn’t you listen to me?” Castiel’s eye open and the wounds on his face disappear. “Cas?” Dean and Bobby help the angel sit up.

“That was unpleasant,” Castiel says.

“Let’s get him up,” Dean tells Bobby and they pull Castiel up.

Castiel looks around. “I’m alive.”

“Apparently,” Addison comments.

“I’m astonished. Thank you. All of you.”

“We were mostly just trying to save the world,” Bobby tells him.

“I’m ashamed. I really overreached.”

Dean scoffs. “You think?”

“I’m gonna find some way to redeem myself to you.”

“All right, well, one thing at time. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

“I mean it, Dean.”

“Okay. All right. But let’s go find Sam.”

Castiel shoves them forward. “You need to run. I can’t hold them back.”

“Hold who back,” Addison asks.

A growling noise comes from Castiel’s stomach. “They held on inside me. They’re so strong.”

Bobby frowns. “Who the hell—”

“Leviathan.” The hunters exchange worried looks. “I can’t fight them! Run!”

“Go get Sam,” Dean orders, shoving Addison and Bobby towards the door. “Go get Sam!”

“Too late.”

Dean turns to see Castiel upright. Bobby stops at the door and stares. The look on his face was eerie. “Cas?”

Castiel grabs Dean’s jacket and pulls him close. He could tell that Castiel was no longer in the body. “Cas is, hmm. He’s gone. He’s dead. We run the show now,” the monster announces. The creature tosses Dean across the lab, then makes his way over to Bobby and does the same. He looks at the hunters in front of him. “Now, this is going to be so much fun.”


	2. Hello, Cruel World

Dean stares up at the creature inhabiting Castiel’s vessel. The veins on it’s neck were black. “Bobby,” he asks, as the leviathan walks over to the older hunter. Bobby sits up and stares at the monster. “How many of you ass clowns are in there? Hundred? More?” Dean notices black ooze dripping from the leviathan’s sleeve. “Your vessel is gonna explode, ain’t it? Wouldn’t do anything too strenuous. In fact, I’d call it a day, head on home, huh?”

“We’ll be back for you,” the creature declares, then walks out of the lab.

“Well, this is a new one,” Bobby comments. He exchanges a look with Dean before they stand and run out of the lab.

They come across Sam standing in a corner. Dean didn’t like the look on his younger brother’s face. “Sam,” he says. “Sam. Sam, you hearing me?” Sam gasps and jumps. Dean places a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Look at me. Hey. All right, we gotta button this up. Come on. Let’s find Ads and get out of here.”

Elsewhere in the lab, Addison cautiously steps out alcove she had hidden in when Castiel had passed. A hand grabs her shoulder and she spins around to see Dean, Sam, and Bobby standing there. She lets out an annoyed huff. “Can we get the hell out of here?”

The hunters make their way out of the lab and catch up just in time to see the creature formerly known as Castiel walk into a water reservoir. He disappears under the water and a whirlpool appears. Blackness shoots out from the whirlpool, then vanishes. “Aw, hell,” Bobby comments.

“Damn it,” Dean says, noticing the sign declaring the reservoir was public water.

“You said it. Those…whatever you call ‘ems…”

“Leviathan,” Addison supplies.

“Right. If they’re in the pipes, they got themselves a highway to anywhere.”

Dean scoffs. “Awesome.” He walks to the water’s edge and picks up the dirty trench coat that had floated over. “Okay. So he’s gone.”

“Yup. Rest in peace. If that’s in the cards.”

Dean gingerly folds the trench coat. “Dumb son of a bitch.”

“Well, he was friends with us, wasn’t he? Can’t get much dumber than that. Come on, those things will be coming up for air soon.” Bobby turns and walks towards where the Impala was parked. Addison places a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder, before following the elder hunter.

* * *

“Sammy. Sammy,” Dean says, touching his younger brother’s shoulder. Sam shoots up from the couch and looks around Bobby’s living room. “Hey, whoa. That’s twelve hours straight. I’m calling that rested.” Dean holds out a bottle of water and a protein bar. “Here, hydrate. And, uh, protein-ate.”

“Breakfast in bed,” Sam replies.

Dean grabs a chair and pulls it over. “Don’t get used to it. Let me see that hand.” He doesn’t miss Sam looking past his shoulder as he takes his younger brother’s hand. The cut on Sam’s hand was lightly red, but in their line of work it was better than the alternative. “Ah, you’ll live.” He grabs a bottle of whiskey and rag off Bobby’s desk. “Here.” Sam hisses at the pain. “All right, take it easy.”

“So, ooze invasion. Any leads,” Sam asks as Bobby enters the room.

“I got my all feelers out,” Bobby replies, switching seats with Dean. “Whatever they’re up to, it ain’t about going Mothra down Main Street. They’ll turn up.” He wraps Sam’s hand up with fresh gauze and looks at him. “You seem pretty eager to stretch your legs, you know.”

“Yeah, well, now onto our other big problem,” Dean says. “How’re you doing? Add do not say okay.”

“I’m not okay,” Sam confesses.

Dean glares. “You think?”

“Hey. Go a little easy,” Bobby tells him.

“There’s nothing easy, about it, Bobby, okay. We acted like he had everything under control.”

“I get it. I’m sorry,” Sam says. “Look, I – I didn’t exactly want to crack up, you know?”

“What the hell happened back there?”

Sam pauses. “Well, it’s not just flashbacks anymore.”

“Well, then what?”

“It’s more like…I’m seeing through the cracks.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m having a difficult time figuring out what’s real.”

“Hallucinations,” Dean asks.

“For starters.”

“Well for starters, if you’re tripping Hell’s bells, why would you hide that?”

“I wasn’t hiding it, Dean. I – I was just not talking about it. I mean, it seemed like you three had enough going on as it was. Look, I – I figured, try to hold onto the safety bar and ride it out, you know? But it’s getting more specific.”

“As in specially what?“

As Sam finishes telling them about Lucifer and his never ending taunts, Dean stands and pours a couple glasses of whiskey. Addison enters the room, clutching a bottle of water. “What the hell, Sam,” Dean asks, handing Bobby one of the glasses.

Sam sighs. “I told you.”

“I mean, seriously, how do you – how do you argue with that?”

“I know. It’s a problem.”

“No, wait, I got it. Why would the Devil holodeck you a whole new life when he could just kick your ass all over the cage?”

“Cause as he puts it ‘you can’t torture someone who has nothing left for you to take away.’”

“Okay, fine. But this Malibu dream mansion that he – he – he makes for you to take away is this this post apocalyptic mess?”

Addison frowns when Sam looks towards a corner of the room. “Sam, are you seeing him right now,” she asks. Sam nods.

“You know that he’s not real, right,” Dean tells him.

“He says that same thing about you,” Sam replies. Dean exchanges a look with Addison and Bobby.

Bobby sighs, standing up. “I’m going back to work.” No one says anything as the older hunter leaves the room. Dean runs a hand over his face and walks out of the room.

Addison places a comforting hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, everything’s gonna be okay,” she softly says. Sam buries his face in her stomach and she runs a hand through his hair. She shoots Dean a concerned look and he runs a hand over his face.

* * *

Dean glances into the living room where Sam’s sitting at Bobby’s desk, taking apart his gun. Addison was stretched out on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. “Well, at least he’s not curled up under the sink,” Bobby comments, turning back his attention back to his computer.

“Yeah, no, he’s just sitting there silently field stripping his weapon,” Dean replies. He watches Sam for a moment, then moves around the table and takes Sam’s phone out of his jacket.

“What are you doing,” Bobby questions, watching Dean.

“Turning on his GPS, case he decides to fly the cuckoo’s nest.”

“And you? How are you doing?”

“Seriously, Bobby, it’s ain’t like he’s hexed, you know? I mean, what if it’s the kind of crazy you can’t fix?”

“Yeah, I’m — I’m worried too, but humor me for a second. How are you?”

“Who cares? Don’t you think our mailbox is a little full right now? I’m fine.”

Bobby unconvincingly nods. “Right. And weren’t you pissed at him when he said the same thing just a couple hours before he spilled his marbles all over the floor?”

“Yeah, well…I’m not Sam, okay,” Dean says, moving over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. “I keep my marbles in a lead fucking box. I’m fine. Really.”

“Of course. Yeah. You just lost one of the best friends you ever had, your brother’s in the bell jar, and Purgatory’s most wanted are surfing the sewer lines, but yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re – you’re fine.”

“Good.”

“Course, if at any time you want to decided that utter horse shit, well, I’ll be where I always am. Right here.”

“What, you want to do couples’ yoga or you want to get back to hunting the big bads?”

“Shut up. Idjit.”

* * *

“Hey there Gunga Din, buck up,” Bobby greets as Dean enters the kitchen carrying an armful of groceries. He and Sam were sitting at the table, doing research while Addison was taking a nap on the couch.  

“So it looks like we got some bad news for a change,” Sam says. “Stockville North Kansas, most of a high school swim team got mangled to death in their locker room.”

Dean walks over and looks at Bobby’s computer screen while the older hunter grabs a cup of coffee. “Cop talk on the wire’s kind of garbled, saying it looks like some kind of wild animal attack. They’re saying that whatever attacked them’s about the size of a linebacker.”

“It’s a lead, Dean.”

Dean turns to Sam. “All right, but if you think you’re going out on a hunt—”

“No, I know. I’m not. But you are. Look, Bobby’s running the hub, I’m — I’m 5150’d, which leaves you and Ads to follow this thing up.”

“Sam, you’re in the middle of a psychotic break.”

“It’s a couple hours’ drive, Dean, and it could be a Leviathan thing.”

“Nah, if you think I’m leaving you here alone—”

“Hey,” Bobby snaps. “What am I? Chopped brains on toast? I can eyeball the kid. Go. Work off some of these nerves on something useful.”

Dean looks between his brother and Bobby. “Fine.” He glances to where Addison is sleeping. “Guess, I’ll wake up Yogi.”

Sam smirks at his older brother. “Yeah, you have fun with that, Boo Boo.”

* * *

Addison wrinkles her nose as she and Dean make their way towards the locker room. Dean catches the look. “You’re not gonna puke, are you,” he asks, running a hand over his face. His reservations about Addison working a job, were making themselves known in his gut. She hadn’t been acting like her self lately and he was beginning to worry.

“No,” Addison replies, taking a deep breath. “But I could really go for a pineapple smoothie.”

Dean shakes his head. They find a crime scene team collecting evidence from the bloodied locker room. They pull out their fake badges and show them to the officer. “Hi. Special Agents Anderson and Noble.”

The crime scene tech waves them in. “Our point cop’s out on the donut. Forensics. I can show you the layout. And step lightly. We got a whole bunch of NC17 shit right over there.”

“Lovely,” Addison mutters, carefully moving across the room. Blood covered the walls and some of the lockers. She stands there for a moment, then runs out of the locker room.

Dean spots the black ooze on a wall. “Damn it.” He looks around the locker room and frowns when he doesn’t see Addison. Running a hand over his face, Dean makes his way out of the locker room and to the nearest women’s restroom. He finds her in one of the stalls, kneeling next to the toilet. “Ads, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Addison replies, standing up. She flushes the toilet and pushes past Dean out of the stall. She walks over to the sink and splashes water on her face.

Dean clears his throat. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Addison stares at him in disbelief. “Other than the fact that I have an IUD. No, I’m not pregnant.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. Why? You want me to pee on a stick in front of you. Because I can guarantee that after three minutes the result is ‘not pregnant.’ That’s what happens when people haven’t had sex in over six months.” Addison shakes her head and leans against the counter. “Sam’s gone cuckoo for cocoa puffs, we got these leviathans killing a bunch of high schoolers, Cas is dead, and my dad may be having brain surgery. Sometimes, stress takes a physical toll.”

Dean frowns. “You haven’t sex in over six months?”

Addison blinks. “That’s…that’s what you focus on.”

Dean shrugs, a smirk on his face. “You know that it grows back if you don’t have sex. It’s a fact, Ads.”

Addison rolls her eyes but smiles at him. “You’re an ass.”

* * *

“Well, we are positive for ick,” Dean says after Sam finally picks up the phone. He and Addison were in the Impala, heading back towards Sioux Falls.  “Same kind of stuff that came out of Cas, and, uh, two of the swim kids were missing – they stole one of their parents’ cars.”

“So you think these, um, these Leviathan things just jump into people? Like Eve did,” Sam questions over the speaker phone.

“I don’t know, it makes sense, right? Anyway, uh, state trooper’s got surveillance cam on the kids about six hours old, of them gassing up just south of Dakota line, so we’re headed back your way. We’ll just track them from Bobby’s.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Hey. How you doing?”

“You know, uh, okay,” Sam replies after a moment.

“Okay. Well hang in there, all right,” Dean tells him, then snaps his phone shut. He could feel Addison’s gaze on him. “Don’t. Okay? I’m fine.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Right.”

“I am.”

“Dean, you’re not okay. It’s pretty fucking obvious. We’re all worried about Sam. Just…if you don’t want to talk to Bobby or me about, then find someone.”

Silence settles over the Impala for the rest of the drive. “Sam,” Dean calls out as they enter Bobby’s house. There’s no answer. “Sammy? Sam?” He turns when Addison walks out of the kitchen. She shakes her head. A mixture of worry and anger crosses his face. “All right, uh, stay here.”

Addison frowns. “You sure you don’t want any help?”

“I want you to stay here in case Sam comes back.”

“Okay. I’ll call if he comes back before you can find him,” Addison softly replies. She watches as Dean runs out of the house and sighs, sitting down at the table. Taking a deep breath, Addison pulls out her cell phone and scrolls through the contacts before hitting a number.

“I was just thinking about calling you,” Patrick greets and Addison can’t help but smile as she sits down at the table. “Have you guys learned anything more on the leviathans?”

“Just that they bleed black goo,” Addison tells him.

Patrick sighs. “That doesn’t do much help. I'm gonna hit up one of Samuel’s old storage units this weekend. Hopefully, there’s something in there that can help us.”

“When are you having surgery?”

“Actually, that’s what I was gonna talk to you about. Right now, surgery has been pushed back. Dr. Wilson said there’s no need to rush it since the clinical trail medicine has been giving us good results. He’s going to talk with a doctor from London who has successfully done this particular surgery before.”

“But you’re still going to have the surgery one day?”

“Yeah. Yeah, they are going still do the surgery.”

Addison looks up when Bobby walks into the kitchen, a bag full of weapons in his hand. “Hey, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

“Where’s Dean,” Bobby asks, setting the bag down on the table.

“He went to find Sam. What’s going on?”

* * *

“Ah, this can’t be good,” Dean mutters to himself as he pulls up in front of an abandoned warehouse. A black van was parked near an entrance. He parks the Impala and climbs out before making his way into the warehouse. “Sam? Sam?” Sam was standing in the middle of the room, a gun in his hand. “Sam, what are you doing?” Sam aims his gun at Dean and Dean holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa.”

“I was with you, Dean,” Sam terrifyingly replies.

“Okay. Well, here I am.”

“No. No, I don’t – I…” Sam glances to the empty space next to him. “I can’t know that for sure. You understand me?”

“Okay, then we’re gonna have to start small.”

“I don’t remember driving here.” Sam looks over to his left and shoots the wall.

“Whoa, whoa, Sam! This discussion does not require a weapons discharge.” Sam lowers his gun as Dean cautiously moves towards him. “Look at me. Come on. You don’t know what’s real? Look, man, I’ve been to Hell, okay? I know a thing or two about torture. Enough to know that it feels different than the pain of this – this regular stupid shitty this.”

“No. How can you know that for sure?”

“Let me see your hand.” Sam starts to lift his good hand. “No, no, no. The gimp hand. Let me see it.” Sam looks behind him and Dean grabs his injured hand. Sam turns back to Dean. “Hey. This is real. Not a year ago, not in Hell. Now. I was with you when you cut it. I sewed it up. Look.” Dean presses down on the cut and Sam hisses in pain. “This is different, right? Than the shit that’s tearing at your walnut? I’m different. Right?”

Sam rips his hand out of Dean’s grasp. “Yeah, I think so.”

Dean grows more worried when Sam looks off into space. “Sam? Sam?” He watches as his younger brother presses hard enough on the cut to cause it to start bleeding again. “Hey, I am your flesh-and-blood brother, okay? I’m the only one who can legitimately kick your ass in real time. You got away. We got you out, Sammy.” Sam presses his cut once more. “Believe in that. Believe me, okay? You gotta believe me. You gotta make it stone number one and build on it. You understand?”

Sam nods. “Yeah. Yeah, agreed.” A ringing cell phone breaks the moment and Sam takes out his phone. “Bobby, hey…Leviathan here?” Sam hangs up his phone and looks at Dean. “Bobby’s got a live one.”

“Okay. Well, let’s go.”

* * *

The Impala speeds back towards Bobby’s house. Dean clenches the steering wheel. He shifts in his seat. He was worried about Addison and the fact that she hadn’t picked up her cell phone yet. “Look, when we get back to Bobby’s—"

“It’s okay, Dean. I’m good,” Sam interrupts. Dean glances at him in concern. “No white rabbits. I’m not seeing anything.”

“Okay. Baby steps.” A silence settles over them as they arrive at Bobby’s house. “Oh no.” The smoldering remains of Bobby’s house was in front of them. The boys climb out of the Impala and stare in horror. Dean takes off. “Ads! Addison!”

The boys split up, searching the rubble and property for Bobby and Addison. Sam catches up with Dean as he walks out with a burnt up book. “Any sign of ‘em,” Sam asks.

Dean tosses the book into the rubble and walks over to the garage with Sam on his tail. “That place was torched. Somebody knew what they were doing.”

“You think Addison and Bobby were back there?”

“I don’t know.” Dean could feel the worry building. Sam takes off, shouting for Bobby and Addison. Dean takes out of his phone and hits the speed dial for Addison.

“This is Addison Sloan’s personal number. If you leave a name and number, I may or may not get back to you,” Addison’s voice brightly greets.

Dean grips his phone. This wasn’t happening. He refused to believe that he had lost two more members of his family. “You and Bobby cannot be in that crater back there. I can’t – If you’re both gone, I swear I’m going to strap my Beautiful Mind brother into the car and I’m gonna drive us off the pier. You asked me how I was doing. Well, not good. Now, Bobby said he’d be here. Where are you guys?” Dean hangs up his phone and clenches his jaw.

“Bobby? Ads,” Sam shouts.

“Ads? Bobby,” Dean yells, looking around. He searches the junkyard, making his way towards Sam. He stops when he sees a man standing a few feet away from Sam. Dean grabs a shotgun and moves closer.

“Winchester. Congratulations. Apparently you two are competent enough to warrant annihilating. I’d take it as a compliment,” the man says, walking towards Sam.

Dean aims the shotgun and shoots the man in the head. Black oozes spurts out from the man’s head, but nothing else happens. The man looks at him, then opens his mouth and reveals a set of sharp teeth. The leviathan grabs Dean and tosses him into a windshield. Dean grunts in pain as he hits the ground hard and feels his leg snapping. Sam rushes forward and punches the leviathan as Dean scoots back. “Dean, now,” Sam says when Dean close to the back of the car. Dean presses a button on a large remote and a car drops down onto the leviathan. The force of the car hitting the ground knocks Sam down.

Dean crawls over to Sam. “Sam? Sammy? Hey, come on now. I’m the one with the broken leg. You gotta carry me. Sam!?”


	3. The Girl Next Door

Dean wakes up to find himself in a hospital room. He looks around and finds a sign declaring it to be Sioux Falls General Hospital. It was the last place he wanted to be. The last thing he remembered was begging the EMTs to take him and Sam to a different hospital. He sits up and after a moment, rips out of the IV in his arm. He moves to stand up but falls to the ground. It’s then that he finally notices the cast on his right leg. The door opens and he looks to see Addison enter the room. She was wearing her FBI outfit. “Ads, you’re alive,” he states.

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m not that easy to kill. Why are you on the floor?”

“They gave me morphine. A lot.” She shakes her head in amusement and walks over to him. She helps him up and back onto the bed. “Hey, look, a monster broke my leg. Oh. Wait…the house. We thought you and Bobby were dead.”

Addison pulls the curtains close. “We’re not. But it’s not safe here and we gotta go.”

“Where’s Bobby?”

Addison grabs his clothes off the dresser and tosses them on the bed. “Looking for Sam. We’re gonna meet him at the ambulance dock.”

“Wait, where? Ads, I’m a gimp.”

Addison grabs the crutches by the door and places them next to his bed. “Now, put your clothes on.” She starts to move back, but he grabs her arm. She looks at him confused. Dean pulls her into a kiss. He cups the back of her head while she presses as close as she can. Reluctantly, Addison pulls away. She shoots him a reassuring smile and places a comforting hand on his cheek. “We need to go before they decided to eat you while you’re stoned.”

Finally dressed, Dean hobbles out of the room with Addison. He stumbles when she pushes him against a wall. “Ads—” She slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Look like we’re taking the long way around,” she whispers. As quickly as they can they make their way down to the ambulance dock. Addison opens the door to see Bobby sitting in the driver’s seat. Dean climbs in first, then Addison. He groans as she sits on his lap. She glares at him. Bobby presses down on the gas and they speed away from the hospital.

* * *

Addison takes another bite of chocolate pudding, not taking her gaze off the television. Dean was stretched out on the couch, with his head in her lap and they both riveted by the telenovela currently playing. Three weeks had passed since their getaway from Sioux Falls. Bobby had taken them to Rufus’ cabin in Montana and they had been there ever since. It was small with only a couple of bedrooms, but it did have a basement. Dean had caught Addison and Bobby up on what had happened with Sam while they had explained their quick escape from the leviathans. The door opens and closes and Dean glances over to see Bobby. “Dude, Ricardo,” he says.

“What happened,” Bobby asks, walking over towards them.

“Suicidio.“

“Adios,” Addison comments, shifting.

“Well, this ought to cheer you up,” Bobby says, tossing a set of keys onto Dean’s chest.

Dean grins and sits up. “My baby. Now, I gotta get this stupid thing off and I can drive again.”

“So how is it out there,” Sam asks Bobby. He was sitting at the small table that was covered in empty beer bottles and cans.

“Weird with a side order of bloody,” Bobby answers, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Talked to a few hunters. They’re running into the same kind of thing that set up shop at that hospital.”

“And don’t forget tried to kill us at your place,” Dean adds.

Bobby nods. “Well, consensus is they’re, uh, they’re like shapeshifters, only a lot more into eating folk. And nothing can kill them.”

“Good times. Anything else?”

“Yep. They bleed black goo.”

“Like that stuff that came out of Cas,” Sam says. “Those things from Purgatory, uh—”

“Leviathan,” Addison supplies.

“Yep,” Bobby agrees.

“What about those chompers you and the sheriff saw at the hospital? They still making spleenburgers,” Dean questions.

“Yeah. I made some calls. That doctor never showed back up to work. Ditto a nurse and some administrator.”

“Could be at any hospital.”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think, Sammy?” Sam remains silent and they all look at him, worried. “Sam? Sam. Hey, ground control. Sam!”

Sam rubs the still healing cut on his hand. “Yeah. What? I’m – I’m right here.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

They stare at him, unconvinced. “Good,” Bobby says, breaking the silence. “Every last bit of info I ever had burned down, so…”

“What about this place,” Dean asks. “Rufus leave anything? You check the basement?”

“C rations and dust. I don’t think he had been here in years. So I gotta go round up my old library.”

“I thought you said those books were one of a kind,” Sam says.

“Yeah. That’s why I stashed copies all over the place.”

“Okay, good. Uh…hey, uh, two legs, we’re fresh out of grub. You wanna make a run,” Dean asks Sam.

Sam shrugs. “Sure, yeah.”

Dean tosses Sam the Impala keys. “Be careful with her, would you? And, uh, Sam.”

Sam looks at him. “Yeah?”

“Pie.”

“Obviously.”

“And some sliced pineapple,” Addison says, standing up. Sam nods and walks out of the cabin.

Dean turns to Bobby. “So?”

Bobby stares. “So what?”

“Before you bail again, Girl, Interrupted over there. Any thoughts?”

Bobby shrugs. “Looks to me like he’s doing better.”

“Better? What do you mean better? You just saw him.”

“He only checked out once. I say we call that progress,” Addison argues and Bobby nods in agreement.

“You’re kidding.”

Addison sighs. “Dean, it’s gonna take time for Sam’s head to heal. It’s no different than your leg. Everyone heals in their own time.”

“No diff – Ads, I get this thing off in five days, I’m golden. He’s a fucking time bomb.”

Dean turns to Bobby and the older hunter sighs. “It ain’t like he’s keeping secrets. What you see is what you get. What’s so nuts about calling an upswing,” Bobby tells him.

“Because that’s not how it works, guys. Ever. All right? Especially not with Sam. The other shoe is gonna drop. It’s just a matter of when.”

“Okay. How about we worry about today’s problems? And today, we need intel.” Bobby stands up and makes his way towards the door. “I’m going, you sit there and stew. I’ll check in.” He pauses by the door and turns to the man he considered a son. “Look, you sitting here wringing your hands, ain’t gonna do nothing. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”

Dean remains silent as Bobby walks out of the cabin. Addison places a comforting hand on Dean’s shoulder. “One day at a time,” she softly tells him, then walks away.

_Addison sighs as she walks up the dirt driveway to Rufus’s cabin. They had only been at the cabin for a few days and Dean was already driving her crazy. Between him annoying her with his constant demands and her own worry about Sam, Addison had taken to doing daily jogs to get a few minutes alone. She stops and runs a hand through her hair. It hung past her shoulders with her natural copper red slowly coming back. Hearing a car approaching, Addison turns to see a black Honda Civic pull up next to her. The window rolls down and Patrick smiles at her. He climbs out of the car and tightly embraces his daughter. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart,” Patrick softly says._

_“I’ve missed you too, Dad,” Addison replies. “What are you doing here?”_

_“A couple of things. I got a few books that I need help translating. First, through, I was hoping that we could have lunch.”_

_“Sure. Let me get showered and changed first.”_

_Patrick chuckles. “Which gives the boys and Bobby a chance to make sure that I’m me.”_

_Addison laughs. “Hey, as far as I’m concerned you’re you. Because if you weren’t, you probably would’ve eaten me by now.”_

Dean grins and sits up when Sam enters the cabin carrying a couple bags of groceries. Sam sets a bag down on the coffee table before moving over to the table. “Thank you,” Dean tells him, pulling the bag onto his lap.

“Yep.” Sam looks around the cabin as Addison joins him at the table. “Where’s Bobby? Did he take off?”

“Yeah.” Dean looks at his younger brother. “Hey, Sam, how you doing?”

“Fine.”

“I mean, you still – you know?”

“Yeah. No, I know what you mean. Yeah, I’m still seeing shit that’s not real. But, yeah, I’m fine. I mean, I can tell the difference.”

Dean nods, unconvinced. “Think it’s getting better?”

“Honestly? Uh…I don’t know.” Addison comfortingly rubs Sam’s arm, then moves to grab a bowl. “I know I’m managing it, so…so don’t worry.”

Dean turns his attention to the bag of groceries. Frowning, he pulls out a box of cake. “Where’s the pie?”

“I got cake. It’s close enough, right?”

Dean stares in disbelief. He turns when Addison grabs the remote and sees the bowl filled with sliced pineapple. He turns back to the cake, dismayed. “Stop pouting,” Addison says, pushing his legs off the couch.

_Dean hobbles into the bedroom that Addison had claimed. Despite the fact that Patrick had passed all of the tests and Addison had seemed happy after having lunch with her father, something wasn’t setting well with him. “Please tell me you’re watching porn,” he says, sitting on the bed next to her._

_Addison shoots him a disbelieving look. “Shouldn’t you be watching whatever that old ass tv can pick up,” she counters._

_“And listen to Sam and Patrick geek out over some old ass books. No thanks.”_

_“Those books are over two hundred years old, Dean. And they’ve been passed through my family for ages.” Dean glances at her laptop and sees the midnight elf fighting a troll. “You didn’t come in here to watch me play World of Warcraft. What did you want? And no, we’re not having sex. You have a broken leg.”_

_Dean blinks. “That honestly didn’t cross my mind.”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“Yeah.” Dean runs a hand over his face. “What does he want?”_

_“My dad?” He nods and she rolls her eyes. “Dean, my dad doesn’t have to want something to be here. He wants to help.”_

_“So, he shows up now. Not when we needed actual help to stop Cas.”_

_Addison sighs. “He had to work. And he had a doctor’s appointment. Don’t worry, he’s only staying for a few days.”_

Dean frowns when Addison sets a bowl of tomato soup down on the coffee table and grabs the leather-bound book. Sam was sitting at the dining room table, a newspaper in front of him. She had been reading the same book every night for the past three weeks. “You any closer to having that damn thing translated?”

“I finally got the first page translated,” Addison replies, grabbing her soup.

“You’ve spent the past three weeks reading that damn thing and you only got one page translated?”

Addison shrugs. “It’s been a while since I’ve read Irish. I had to go through a refresher course.” Sam stands up and walks out of the room. Dean runs a hand over his face. “You need to stop worrying so much about him. Just take it one day at a time.”

“One day at a time,” Dean disbelievingly repeats. “The moment I let that happen is the moment when shit hits the fan, Ads.”

Addison closes the book and moves closer to him. “You’ve been cooped up in here for three weeks, Dean. And you’ve spent most of your time worrying about Sam. Right now, he’s fine. Maybe tomorrow is when shit hits the fan or maybe it isn’t. We can’t see the future, Dean. So, take it one day at a time.”

Dean stares at her. “Are you high?”

Addison rolls her eyes and stands up. “It’s called being relaxed. You should try it sometime.”

* * *

Dean wakes up the next morning to find a nature documentary on TV. He grabs the remote and turns it off. He pauses, seeing a piece of paper sitting on top of a book. He grabs it. ‘Back in a few days. I’m fine. Sam.’ He clenches the piece of paper. “Ads,” he shouts, but gets no reply. “Addison!” The door opens and he turns to see Addison. She was wearing a neon pink sports bra and black jogging pants. It was obvious she had just come back from a run. Dean waves the note. “Did you know about this?”

Addison grabs the note from him. She sighs and shakes her head. “I didn’t know. He wasn’t here when I got up, so I figured he went to get food.”

Dean grabs his phone off the coffee table and hits the speed dial for Sam. There was no answer and Dean checks the GPS on Sam’s phone, only to find it was turned off. He then hits the speed dial for Bobby. “Other shoe,” he snaps, not giving the older hunter a chance to speak.

“Other who,” Bobby replies, over speaker phone.

“Sam. He took off.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Nowhere good.”

“Well, maybe he needed a little me time.”

“Yeah. But his me time ain’t just him. I mean, for all we know he’s road tripping with Lucifer somewhere. Left me here like Jimmy fucking Stewart.”

“I assumed you called.”

“Straight to voice mail. Turned his GPS off too. And he took my car.”

“Don’t panic,” Bobby soothes.

“Too late.”

“Look, he says he’s okay, so give it a couple of days. Just till you get the cast off. And then hunt him down. Till then, we’ll just keep calling.”

“All right.” Dean snaps his phone shut and tosses on the couch next to him.

Addison stands there for a moment. She knew Dean. She knew that nothing she could do would distract him from worrying about Sam. “Okay. Well, I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t do anything stupid,” she says, giving him a pointed look. Dean stares back at her and Addison rolls her eyes as she walks out of the living room.

* * *

Of course, Dean didn’t listen. The moment he heard the shower come on, he went in search of a small hand held saw and cut off his cast. All Addison did was shake her head before they started the search for Sam. The first place they decided to check out was the small convenience store not far from the cabin. The clerk was sitting behind the counter, watching an old Looney Toons cartoon. “How you doing,” Dean greets. “Uh, was there a, uh, big guy in here yesterday?”

The clerk stares at him for a second, then turns back to the TV. “That’s specific.”

“He’s about a good foot taller than me,” Addison says.

The clerk looks at her. “Yeah, maybe. Uh, brown hair.”

“Yes, yes. That’s him,” Dean replies. “You, uh, remember what he brought?”

“Snacks, maybe.”

“How bout a paper? Do you have yesterday’s paper?”

The clerk motions to a blue box in front of a display of candy. “Yeah, right there.”

Addison grabs a paper with the headline saying ‘Ice pick killer strikes again’. Dean comes up behind her and takes the paper. He holds up the paper. “Do you mind?” The clerk shrugs and turns back to the TV as they walk out of the convenience store.

_Dean runs a hand over his face as he makes his way back to Addison’s bedroom. He stops when he hears someone moving around in the living room. He moves towards the room and sees Patrick packing. “Wow, when I thought you couldn’t get any lower,” he coldly says. Patrick shoots him a confused look. “You’re leaving. Again. Without saying a damn word to Addison.”_

_“I talked to her last night about this,” Patrick explains. “I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow afternoon and it’ll take me most of the day to drive to Rochester.”_

_“You know, somehow I don’t believe that.”_

_Patrick sighs. “Look, you don’t trust me or even like me. Fine. That’s between us. But stop trying to interfere in the relationship I have with my daughter. It has took me a year to repair everything that I broke.”_

_“Yeah, because you left. And you let everyone think that you were dead for ten years. We could’ve used your fucking help.”_

_Patrick chuckles, realization hitting him. “Dean, I’m sorry for lying to you. Addison’s forgiven me. But however much you hate me now, she’s forgiven me. And that’s all that matters to me.”_

Addison frowns as she and Dean sit in the old Jeep Wrangler near the coroner’s office. “It’s a what now,” she asks, shifting in the seat. It hadn’t taken him long inside the coroner’s office before coming back out.

“Kitsune,” Dean answers, flipping through John’s journal. “It’s pretty rare. Dad and I hunted one back in ’98.

“At least we know why Sam took off.”

“Yeah, but why pull the Houdini act, Ads?”

“No clue. What exactly are you gonna do when we catch up with him?”

“I got a few ideas.” Addison shakes her head and looks out the window. Dean clears his throat. “So, you’ve completely forgiven your dad.”

“I have.”

“Because he has a brain tumor.”

“Yes.” Addison smirks as she looks over at him. “Are you going to stop being a dick to him?” Dean shrugs as he starts the Jeep.

* * *

It had been fairly easy for them to track Sam down to his motel room. But as Sam wasn’t there when they arrived, Dean and Addison had broken in to wait for him. The door starts to open and Dean walks over. He pulls it open and throws a hard punch, knocking his younger brother onto the ground. “Howdy, Sam.” Sam pushes himself up and Dean moves out of the way to let him in the room. “New rule. You steal my baby, you get punched. The fuck were you thinking, Sam, running off like that? I mean, for all I know, Satan could haven callin’ your plays.”

Sam sighs as he grabs a beer out of the mini fridge and holds it against his temple. “Dean, look, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m fine.”

“Oh, yeah, no, you’re a poster boy for mental health. You have any idea the kind of horror shows I had going on in my head?”

“Dean, I left you a note. There was a job in town.”

“A kitsune,” Addison asks. “Yeah, we know. But why exactly did you ignore our calls, Sam?”

“Because I wanted to take care of it, Ads. And I did. I took care of it.”

Dean stares at his younger brother. “Really?”

“Yes. Where’s the body?”

Sam remains silent for a moment. “There is no body.”

“Why not?”

“Because I let her go. She’s gone.”

“You what?” Dean frowns. “Why?”

Dean and Addison listen as Sam tells them about a girl named Amy who he had met in high school. Amy, who happened to be a kitsune, had killed her mother to save Sam’s life. “You never told me that,” Dean says, a moment later.

“I never told anyone,” Sam replies. “I mean, can you imagine what Dad would have done?”

“So, you saw the article in the paper and just left,” Addison says.

“It was my mess.”

“And you call letting her go cleaning it up,” Dean questions.

“She killed her own mom, Dean. To save me.”

“I hear you, Sam. I do. But look at her now. She’s dropping bodies, man. Which means we gotta drop her no matter how many merit badges she racked up when she was a kid. I’m sorry, but it’s that simple.”

Sam shakes his head. “Nothing in our lives is simple.”

“Look, man, I get it, okay. You meet a girl, you feel that spark. There’s nothing better. But this freak?” Sam stands up and grabs his jacket. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did. Look, I see the way you look at me, Dean. Like I’m a grenade and you’re waiting for me to go off.”

“Sam—”

“I’m going off. Look, I might be a freak, but that’s not the same as dangerous.”

“I didn’t say—”

“It’s okay. Say it. I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to be normal, but come on, I’m not normal. Look at the shit I’ve done. Look at me now. I’m a grade-A freak. But I’m managing it. And so is Amy.”

“Is she? How?”

“She works at a damn funeral home so she doesn’t have to kill anyone, Dean. She’s figured out how to deal.”

“Okay, well, explain the bodies.”

“She’s done. Her fucking kid was dying, Dean. Put any of us in her position, we’d probably do the same thing. Look, you don’t trust her, fine. Trust me.” Dean remains quiet. “Dean, please.”

“Okay.”

Sam stares in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Gotta start sometime, right?”

* * *

Addison looks up from her laptop when the door of their newest motel room opens. Dean had dropped her and Sam off while he went to refill his prescription, through that had been a few hours ago. He looks around the room, then turns to her. “Bathroom,” she says, answering his silent question. Dean nods and shrugs off his jacket. Dean rubs his face as he sits down on the bed and turns on the TV. “Eventually, he’ll find out.”

“I’ll deal with it when it happens,” Dean replies. He spots the leather bound book and spiral notebook sitting on the night stand. “Any progress?”

“No.”


	4. Defending Your Life

Addison frowns as she climbs out of the Impala after they arrive at the crime scene. Reporters and police officers surrounded the area outside the apartment building. She brushes invisible lent off of her blazer, as she looks around the crime scene. “Feels wonky,” Dean states.

Sam frowns in confusion. “What?”

“Working a regular job.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Bobby will call if anything pops up on the Leviathan front. Besides, you know you want to work this case, Dean. The cop on the wire sounded utterly confused.”

Dean nods in agreement. “No arguments. It’s kind of nice, you know. We’re due for a little cut-and-dry.” They flash their badges at the officer and then walk under the police tape. “And, uh, you seem good, Sam.”

“I am. For me,” Sam replies. He stops and turns to Dean. “By the way, thank you.“

“For?”

“Amy. I know you didn’t wanna let her go, but it was the right thing to do. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

They make their way up to the tenth floor in the apartment building. A detective was standing next to a small pile of rubble on the floor outside the victim’s apartment. “Welcome to Crazytown. Population, one dead guy,” the detective greets.

“Who was he,” Sam questions.

The detective flips through his notebook. “Uh, Matthew Hammond. Seems to have been crushed to death.”

“By,” Dean asks.

“If we weren’t on the tenth floor, I’d say by a car.”

The trio exchanges a look before making their way into the apartment. Blood was splattered along the wall where the hole was. Sam discreetly pulls out the EMF meter and turns it on. “It’s going crazy. Some kind of ghost?”

“With a license,” Dean disbelievingly replies. He grins. “License to kill.”

Sam stares at Dean. “Seriously?”

Addison shakes her head as she moves past him. She stops when she notices something on the floor. Sam walks over and kneels down. “What have you got,” Dean asks, walking around the apartment.

“I don’t know. Looks like some kind of powder,” Sam replies, touching the powder.

“Sulfur.”

“No. Just dirt.”

“Think we might have a Christine type of thing here,” Addison asks as Sam moves over to a desk.

Dean shrugs as he looks through a bowl on a kitchen counter. “Even possessed cars can’t do stairs. It’s something spectral.” He picks up a token. “Check this out. AA, ten years. Dead and sober. Double shitty.”

Dean tosses the token to Addison. Sam holds up some paper. “There’s a, uh, charge that keeps coming up. Fifty bucks a month at a place called Jane’s. All right.” Sam smirks at Dean. “Congrats on your sobriety. I’ll go find out what Jane’s is.”

Dean chuckles. “I, uh, I gave up AA for lent.”

“We’re not Catholic.”

“I, uh, I converted. Ads convinced me. Yep, I’m Catholic now.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “I’ll go to the meeting, you guys can go talk to Jane.”

“Whoa, whoa. You’re not going by yourself.”

“Fine. Sam and I will go to the meeting and you can go talk to Jane. Problem?”

Dean smirks. “It’s hot when you get all bossy, Ads.”

* * *

Their search had led them to a cemetery that night. Sam and Addison didn’t have much luck in finding anything out about the victim, except that he was really private. Dean, on the other hand, had found that the victim had flowers delivered monthly to the same place. “Here we go,” Dean says, finding the headstone. “Meet Elizabeth Duren.”

“She was only ten,” Addison softly says. “Who was she?”

“I don’t know. Well, we’ll chew on it back at the motel.”

After making their way back to the motel, the trio hunkers down into research mode. “Elizabeth Duren,” Sam says. “Killed ten years ago when a neighbor back out of his driveway. Didn’t see her bike. No one was ever charged. Police ruled it a accident.”

“Let me guess. The neighbor is our tenth floor pancake,” Dean replies.

Sam nods. “At least we know he felt bad. I mean, the flowers.”

“Kind of makes you wonder if the guy wasn’t drunk when he ran her over.”

Addison and Sam stare at Dean for a moment while he takes a swig of beer. “Yeah. All right, well, regardless. Now that we got a decent bead on Ghost Rider, let’s go.”

Dean looks at Sam. “What?”

“Burn her bones. Put her to rest,” Sam reminds, grabbing his jacket.  Addison stands up and pulls on a hoodie.

Dean sighs. “The fun never stops.”

* * *

“Ugh, another night at the office,” Dean says as they enter the motel room after burning Elizabeth Duren’s bones. He turns to Sam. “Why don’t you take the first shower?”

“Hey, listen to this,” Addison says. She was holding a newspaper that they had picked up when she insisted on stopping to get something to eat. “‘A local man, Christopher Fisher, was ripped to shreds in a wild animal attack last night.’”

Dean groans as he sits down on the bed. “It is a dangerous world out there, Ads.”

“He was in the bathroom of a diner.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound right.”

“Apparently no one in the diner saw anything,” Addison continues, sitting down at the table with Sam as he grabs his laptop. “He calls 911, screaming about a dog, but the operator didn’t hear anything either.”

“Wow. Looks like this guy had a history with dogs,” Sam says.

“Meaning,” Dean asks.

“Five years ago, he was arrested for running a dogfighting operation.”

“Classy. All right, so what? He causes so much misery that some Rottweiler goes Cujo on him from beyond the grave?” Dean frowns. “Wait a second. Do dogs even have ghosts?”

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“Sounds weird. A ghost dog?”

“Not any weirder than a ghost car,” Addison comments.

“You know what does make sense? Vengeance on the guy that Michael Vicked you. I mean, I’m no one to judge, but sounds to me like that guy had it coming.”

Sam turns back to his laptop. “Maybe. But maybe not. So, he got busted, got probation, started volunteering at an animal shelter.”

“Yeah, because he had to.”

“At first, yeah. But he kept going long after he served his time. Looks like he got really into it. Raised a lot of money for the cause.”

Sam turns his laptop to show them an article about the victim holding a fundraiser for a local animal shelter. “People change.”

“Tell that to ghost dog.”

Sam shuts his laptop and stands. “All right. Get suited up. Let’s go check out the body.”

“What?”

Sam frowns. “What?”

“What? What?“

“Nothing. I — You okay?”

“Peachy. Yeah. Let’s do this.” Addison exchanges a confused look with Sam as Dean gathers his suit.

* * *

“An apple farm,” Dean disbelievingly asks as the Impala speeds down a rural road. Sam had discovered red dirt on the second victim’s shoes and after doing some research had found where the dirt had come from.

“Yeah. Apparently whatever’s in red dirt makes great apples,” Sam explains.

“Wow. I’d be so interested in that if I ate apples.”

“Yeah, since the only apples you eat come in a pie,” Addison comments.

Sam chuckles. “So this one’s supposed to be pretty old, uh, mostly abandoned. Few hundred acres.”

“A few hundred! We’re gonna be searching all year,” Dean complains. A man runs out onto the road and Dean slams on the breaks, causing the Impala to stop a couple of feet from the man.

The trio climbs out. “Are you okay,” Addison asks, moving to stand next to Dean.

“Guy just jumped in front of a car, Ads,” Dean mutters.

“Do you need any help, sir?”

The man continues to pant. “Why don’t we get you out of here before you get roadkilled, huh,” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” the man replies. Addison leads him over to the backdoor and they climb into the Impala.

* * *

The trio and Warren, the man they had narrowly missed hitting, are sitting around the motel room. Sam hands Warren a glass of water. “Warren, uh, just take a minute and tell us what’s going on,” Sam says.

“Look, you’re good people, I can see that,” Warren begins as Dean sits down on the couch next to Addison. “But you can’t do anything for me. No one can.”

“Why not,” Dean asks.

“Because it’s all impossible. You won’t even believe me.”

“Well, try us.”

Warren pauses. “I was just put on trail and sentenced to death.”

Addison frowns. “What did you do?”

“Held up a liquor store. I killed the owner and his wife. I wasn’t thinking. I was young.”

“Young,” Dean disbelievingly repeats, considering the fact that Warren was at least in his fifties. “When was this?”

“1981.”

“And they just put you on trail?”

“No, no. I just got out of prison.”

“Okay, you’re making less sense the more you talk.”

Sam stands up, blocking Dean. “It’s okay. Just go on,” he tells Warren.

“Did thirty years. I just got paroled. Not that you’re ever free of that. I think about it every day.”

“So, then what were you running from?”

“I told you. The trail. All I know is one minute I’m at the bar and the next, I get jumped. Wake up in a damn courtroom.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Courtroom? Like an actual courtroom?”

“Well, no. There was a judge. Everything was crazy. It was in a barn.”

“At the apple farm,” Sam asks.

“Yeah.”

The trio exchanges a look. “And this bar where you were grabbed,” Sam questions.

“Neal’s Tavern.”

Sam turns to Dean and Addison. “Same place where Matthew Hammond went before his, uh, car accident. Think maybe dog guy went there too?” Dean shrugs and Sam turns back to Warren. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

Warren looks between the three of them. “You believe me? Who the hell are you?”

“We, uh, we specialize in…crazy,” Addison tells him. “Um, did this judge give you a name?”

Warren shakes his head. “No. But there were these weird symbols.”

“Symbols,” Sam asks. “Do you remember any of them? Can you draw them?” Addison grabs a notepad and a pencil and hands them to Warren.

“Excuse us a sec. Can I talk to you two,” Dean says. Addison shoots Warren a small smile while the trio make their way out of the room.

“What is it,” Sam asks.

“What is it,” Dean repeats. “Sam, um, huh. How about a drunk driver, Michael Vick, a murderer?”

“And?“

“And? When did our black-and-white case turn to mud? I’m just saying, I’m having a hard time not rooting for the ghosts on this one.”

Addison sighs. “Dean, you’re the one who said that it’s for us to judge.”

“Yeah. Except that that’s complete shit, Ads. Everybody judges all day long. Look, I’m just supposed to ignore what that guy did?”

“We’ve shot people, Dean,” Sam argues. “More than two.”

“Yeah. And you know, when those ghosts come to kick my ass, they’ve got a compelling case.”

“So, are you saying that you don’t want work the job anymore,” Addison questions.

“I’m just saying, one simple fucking day on the job is that too much to ask?”

Sam sighs. “Well, look I’m gonna go out, I’m gonna try and find that barn. You coming?”

“I’m gonna check the bar.”

“To drink or work,” Addison asks.

“I haven’t decided,” Dean answers, before walking off. Addison shakes her head and turns to Sam.

They make their way back into the room and Warren anxiously turns to them. “What’s going on? Where did he go,” Warren asks, noticing Dean’s absence.

“He, uh…” Sam trails off, exchanging a look with Addison. “Everything’s fine. Look, um, let’s go back to that farm.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not going back.”

“Warren, we need your help finding that barn,” Addison tells him.

“It’s red, stands out. I’m not going back. They’re out there.”

“Who,” Sam inquires.

“The people I killed. I just — no. No.”

“Look, you’re safer with us than not.”

“No.”

“Okay. Fine.” Sam takes the notepad from Warren. He grabs a container of salt from a bag and starts making a salt circle around an arm chair. “I need you stay inside the circle until we get back. Okay? It will protect you.”

“How,” Warren asks, taking a seat in the armchair.

“Just trust me, okay? I’m trying to help.”

Addison turns on the TV and tosses Warren the remote. “Just…stay there.” Sam and Addison nod at Warren and make their way out of the room as Sam calls Bobby.

* * *

The Impala pulls up in front of a barn that evening. Addison and Sam climb out and look around. The area was empty save the barn and a couple of old tractors. Sam takes the lead as they enter the barn. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the barn. Sam kneels down and lightly touches the dirt. He holds up his hand and Addison frowns. Sam’s phone rings and he takes it out, putting it on speaker. “Hey, Bobby, what have you got?”

“Those chicken scratches? Definitely Egyptian. Book of the Dead,” Bobby answers.

“Is that good news,” Addison asks.

“They identify the god Osiris. Real authoritarian type. He gets ahold of you, he’s judge, jury, and executioner. Lore says that he can see directly into the human heart. He weighs the guilt. If he finds more than a feather’s worth, boom, you’re done.”

“So, what’s he doing in Dearborn,” Sam questions.

“Well, it seems like he pops up and does his circuit judge act and then disappears again. That’s all I got so far. Do you know what this means?”

“Yeah. We gotta find him before he goes underground again.”

“No, ya idjit. It means you three gotta get the hell out of Dodge. This guy hones in on people that feel guilty. Who does that sound like to you?”

Addison takes out her iPhone and hits speed dial for Dean. It’s after the third try that she grows worried. “Damnit, Dean, pick up the phone. It’s important. Call me or Sam. Now.” She shoves her phone in her pocket and turns to Sam. “Any luck?”

“No,” Sam answers as Addison tries calling Dean once more.

“It’s about fucking time, Dean,” Addison answers after he finally picks up.

“Hello?”

Addison frowns in confusion when a woman replies. “Who is this?”

“Ads,” Sam asks.

“Oh, I just – I picked this off the ground where I’ve been standing for ten minutes listening to it ring,” the woman explains.

“Well, um, can you tell me where you are? It’s just really important that I get my friend’s phone back as it’s got some, um, intimate photos.”

* * *

After picking up Dean’s phone and finding a pile of red dirt near where the phone was dropped, Sam and Addison make their way back to the barn. But now the barn was different. Egyptian statues were around the room along with torches. A gold throne sat upon a platform at the back of the room and across from the platform was Dean. He was chained to a chair and sitting behind a table. “Really, Warren? All you noticed were the symbols,” Dean asks, looking around the room. He struggles against the trains.

“Quit squirming, Mr. Winchester.” Dean looks up to see a man sitting on the throne and holding a staff. “They’re Houdini-proof. Now, you wanna talk charges or—”

“I’d rather talk about your Bukowski schtick at the bar. What, you can’t jump a guy when he’s sober?”

“You and that waitress had quite a talk, huh. Get a couple of drinks in you and the guilt comes pouring out.”

“Eavesdropping. That’s cute.”

“Speaking of. You two gonna skulk all night, Sam and Addison?” Sam pushes open the door and he and Addison walk in. “Nice job finding us. I assumed you figured out who I am too?”

“Yeah,” Sam answers.

“You guys wanna fill me in,” Dean asks.

“The Egyptian god, Osiris,” Addison answers.

“Ta da,” Osiris replies. “Now, go about your business.”

“Look, if anyone should be on trail, it’s me,” Sam says, stepping forward.

“That’s for me to decide. Now, go away.”

“But he — he has the right to an attorney, doesn’t he? Let me—” Addison clears her throat. “Let us defend him.“

“That’s unusual.”

“You gonna respect his rights or not?”

Osiris looks between the three hunters, then shrugs. “Why not?”

Sam sits down in the empty chair next to Dean while Addison sits down in the chair that appears on the other side of Dean. “Neither of you are a lawyer,” Dean hisses.

“I was pre law,” Sam replies.

“Yeah, pre.”

“All right, then, let’s get started,” Osiris says. He bangs his staff on the platform. “Now, the list of witness I can call endless.”

“Objection,” Sam says.

“Are you gonna let me finish my sentence?”

“No. This isn’t fair.”

Osiris scoffs. “Fair? I’m sorry. Moving on. I can make it very simple. Four witnesses.”

“Objection!”

“Grounds?”

“Witness being called without prior notice.”

“Good one,” Dean mutters.

“I saw that on The Good Wife.”

“Yes. Very fine objection. Denied,” Osiris says.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m the judge, son. Now stop objecting or I’ll find you in contempt. That is kill you. So I advise you to let me move it along. Prosecution calls Joanna Beth Harvelle to the stand.”

Jo appears behind a chair next to Osiris. She looked exactly like the last time they had saw her. “Jo,” Dean disbelievingly greets.

“Dean. Sam. Addison. Long time,” Jo replies. Osiris motions for her to sit and she does.

“State your name for the court,” Osiris orders.

“Jo Harvelle.”

“And what is your relationship to Dean Winchester?”

“We worked together.”

“Isn’t it true that you admired him?“

“Well, as a hunter, yeah. As a guy, he was kind of a jerk.”

“So you saw him as a mentor of sorts?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“How would you put it?”

“I don’t know. I trusted him. So if you’re trying to say he was a bad guy or something—”

“Was it hard?”

“What?”

“Working with him. Considering your feelings.”

“No. What feelings?”

“You would’ve done quite a bit for him, followed him into any battle.”

“I know what you’re getting at and it’s bull.”

“So Dean had nothing to do with your first case. The one that started it all.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“No feelings. None at all. You would’ve chosen the exact same road…ended up in that hardware store…holding a fuse.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that,” Dean angrily snaps. “Putting words in her mouth—”

Osiris waves a hand and Dean silently gasps for air. “Keep him under control, counsel. Or I’ll removed his tongue. Your witness.”

Sam stands up and walks over to stand in front of Jo. “Jo,” he greets. “So, um…your dad was in the life?”

“Yes, he was,” Jo answers.

“And your relationship with him?”

“Good. I mean—”

“You idolized him.”

“Basically.”

“So, why did you start? To impress some loudmouth ass you just met? Or because you wanted to be like your dad?”

“Daddy issues. Definitely. Listen, Dean, I don’t—”

Osiris waves a hand and Jo vanishes. The Egyptian God turns to the hunters. “Prosecution calls Addison Bridget Sloan to the stand.”

Dean closes his eyes as Addison makes her way up to the stand. “This is a good thing,” Sam quietly says and Dean just glares at him.

“No, this is a very bad thing,” Dean quietly snaps.

“Addison, how would you describe your relationship with Dean,” Osiris questions.

Addison looks between Dean and Osiris. “Ah, well, I — I would say that we’re, uh, friends.”

Osiris stares at her. “Just friends?”

“Um, yeah. Just friends.”

“And how many times would you say that Dean has broken your heart?”

Addison shifts. “Well, um, I — I don’t…” She trails off at the hard look on Osiris’ face. “Two.”

“Which was when he died after telling you that he loved you and when he went on his goodbye tour during the apocalypse.”

“Told you this was a very bad thing,” Dean mutters.

“Dean’s also the reason you haven’t had a long lasting relationship.”

“Dean has nothing to my failed relationships. That’s all on me,” Addison argues.

Osiris smirks. “Your high school boyfriend Blake? The one who could’ve been your high school sweetheart. The two of you were talking about attending Harvard together.”

“I broke up with him because he went around telling everyone that I was a slut.”

“Which he only did after catching you and Dean behind that dumpster.”

“I made the first move. So, that's on me. Not Dean.”

“How about Wesley?”

“Dean had nothing to do with that. Wes ended things after he found out the truth—”

“From reading your hunters’ journal. Something you only had out because Dean had called you and asked for your help on a case.”

“Wes was bound to find out the truth one way or another. Dean had nothing to do with that.”

“Dean was the one who showed up at the church that afternoon,” Osiris says. Addison’s gaze goes between the god and Dean. “He showed up a few hours after you had meet with the graduate admissions department at Harvard. What was it that he asked you?” Addison stares at Osiris, refusing to give in. “Need I remind you to people that I find in contempt of court?”

“Ads, just answer him,” Dean tells her.

“He asked if I wanted to hunt with him and John,” Addison reluctantly says.

“You were all ready to start Harvard, move on with your normal life, and then Dean waltzes in, destroying everything,” Osiris says. “Because you had never thought about hunting full time. Not until Dean had asked.”

“No one forced me to do anything I didn’t want to do. And certainly not Dean.”

“No? You mean to tell me that if any other hunter had asked you to join them on the road, you would’ve thrown away your all but official full ride to Harvard?”

Addison quickly wipes away a tear that forces it’s way out. “No.”

Osiris smirks. “You threw your entire future away because Dean—”

“Asked,” Addison snaps. “He asked if I wanted to join him and John. I also told him I needed time to think about it. And I spent a good month thinking about it. I called him and I asked where I could meet up with him and John. Yeah, my life isn’t exactly what I pictured, but I made my choice the moment I decided to go after that ghost all by myself.”

“You can take your seat,” Osiris says and Addison quickly makes her way back over to her seat next to Dean. “All right. You three can have a moment to strategize.” The god knowingly looks at Dean. “And then I’ll call my next witness.”

“You okay,” Sam quietly asks as Addison sits down. She nods, taking a deep shaky breath. “All right. Who’s the next witness? He looked at you like you’d know.”

“I got no clue,” Dean confesses. “This whole thing’s like a fucking episode of Pee Wee’s Playhouse.”

“Next witness,” Osiris announces, tapping his staff on the platform. “Prosecution calls…Sam Winchester to the stand.” Sam exchanges a look with Dean and Addison as he makes his way up to the stand. “Sam…not exactly the life you expected, is it?”

“Details a little different,” Sam replies.

“For a while there, you were gonna be a real lawyer. Marry Jess.”

“Yeah, that was a long time ago.”

“But were or were you not happily out of the family racket until Dean showed back up in that gas guzzler? The truth, now.”

Sam pauses. “It’s complicated.”

“That one act had quite a domino effect. Come back, your girl’s dead.”

“Well, that wasn’t his fault.”

“Sure, and neither is everything that came after – all the death and the blood and hanging on by a thread. None of that is on Dean, directly. But don’t you think that your brother dragged you back into that catastrophic mess because he’d rather damn you with him than be alone?”

“No. One way or another, I’d have gotten pulled back in.”

“You know that for certain?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure.”

“I’m positive.”

“I believe you. Hey, if it was about convincing me, I would say…”

Sam frowns. “What?”

“I don’t decide anything, Sam. I don’t decide Dean’s guilt. I just weigh the guilt that’s already there. This is solely about how Dean feels, way down deep. Them’s the breaks.”

“Wait. If Dean believes he’s innocent, then he is,” Addison asks, standing up.

“If. A big if. Why do I bring up the past? To see if he feels like dog shit about it. People want to be judged. They really do. When your heart’s heavy, let me tell you, real punishment’s a mercy.”

“I want to call Dean to the stand,” Sam says.

“Oh, you do, now? There is an order to this stuff, you know.” Osiris nods. “Okay. I’ll allow it.”

Osiris snaps his fingers and the chains around Dean fall to the ground. Dean makes his way up to the stand and switches places with Sam. “So, Dean. When you and Ads came and got me, did you know Jess would die,” Sam asks. “Or any of it?”

“Course not,” Dean answers.

“Right. How could you? I mean, are you psychic?” Dean stares at his younger brother. “That’s a question.”

“No. Uh, definitely not psychic.”

“Great. So why would you feel guilty about not predicting the future?”

“Yeah, I guess that doesn’t make any sense. Actually, yeah, no, I don’t.”

“What about Jo? Did you actually kill her?”

“Uh, no.”

“Isn’t it true that you don’t feel guilty about her – that you’re just…sad she’s dead? That it just…blows?”

“Actually…maybe, yeah.”

“And isn’t true that when Addison cheated on her ex-boyfriends, she’s the one who made the first move?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Not only that, but she hurt you when she left. I mean, you spent a year thinking that she was dead, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmm mmm. I like your style, Sam. Very engaging,” Osiris comments.

“Dean. Does any of this feel like it’s really…on you,” Sam asks his brother.

Dean shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Then is your heart heavy with guilt or just plain heavy and none of this guy’s business?”

“Uh, what you said – the second thing.”

“Then I rest my case.”

Osiris nods. “Very good…all of you. All right. Because I really enjoyed that, I’m gonna be generous and ask – Dean, do you want me to call my last witness? Or have we had enough?”

Dean sighs and Sam frowns. He looks at Addison and she shrugs. “What the hell’s he talking about,” Sam asks his older brother.

“Enough Ally McBealing. Just drop the hammer, will ya,” Dean says.

“Dean, he’s giving us more time,” Addison snaps.

“It’s not gonna make a difference, Ads!”

“You need another moment,” Osiris amusedly asks. “You done?” Dean nods and Osiris bangs his staff three times. “The court’s reached a verdict. I find you, Dean Winchester, guilty in your heart…and sentence you to die. I’d suggest you get your affairs in order quickly.”

* * *

Addison shakes her head as she climbs out of the Impala with the boys. Police and a coroner’s van sat outside their motel and they watch as a body bag on a stretcher is wheeled out. They had made their back to the motel after Osiris’ verdict. They walk up to their room and find the broken salt line around the chair. “Damn it, I told him,” Sam says.

“Osiris would’ve got to him one way or another,” Dean reminds. “Guy’s batting a thousand.”

“There’s still time. We’ll figure something out,” Addison says.

The trio spend much of the day researching about Osiris. That night they’re sitting around the motel room, trying to ignore the fact that Dean may only have a few hours left, when Sam’s phone rings. “Bobby? What have you got,” Sam answers. “Good. We need it. So it’s temporary? A ram’s horn? Where am I gonna find a ram’s horn in Dearborn? Yeah, thanks.”

“Got something,” Addison says from where she was sitting at the table with her laptop. “Okay, so, apparently Jewish people blow through them once a year.”

“Where are you guys gonna find one this time of night,” Dean asks, glancing at his watch.

“Uh, a synagogue.”

“You’re gonna steal from a temple? That’s a new low.”

Sam shoots Dean an unamused look. “You’re on death row, Dean. Quit joking around.” He moves over to his brother and holds out a hand. “Here. Keys. I’ll be back.”

“The dick is gonna sic Jo after me, Sam.”

“You’re a hunter, Dean. You know how to deal with ghosts.”

Dean reluctantly hands the keys to Sam. “So, you’re suggesting I kill her again?”

Addison sighs. “Dean, you didn’t kill her.”

Sam nods in agreement. “I’ll hurry.” He nods at Addison and runs out of the room.

Dean grabs a bottle of whiskey and pours another glass. Addison closes her laptop and walks over to him. “Don’t,” he says, taking a swig of whiskey. She takes the glass out of his hand and finishes it, before holding it out. “I don’t want you to be here for this.”

“You’re shit out of luck because I’m not going anywhere,” Addison replies. “You’re my best friend. Always have been and always will be. That’s never ever gonna change.”

“You’re a pain the ass, Ads.”

“Right back at cha, Winchester.” She shoots him a smile, then moves back. “All right. Let me go pee first, then we’ll get to ghost proofing the room.”

After the bathroom door closes, Dean grabs a chair and places it under the handle, effectively locking Addison in. He pours a circle of salt in the center of the room. “You can come out now.”

“You know I’d never do this,” Jo says, walking slowly around the circle.

The door knob rattles. “Dean,” Addison shouts. “Dean, open the door.”

“I’m not gonna let you watch this, Ads,” Dean tells her. He looks at Jo as she stops in front of him. “I know.”

“I guess it’s his thing. Some kind of twisted eye for an eye,” Jo explains.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You deserve better.”

“No, you did. You deserved better, Jo. Just like Ads deserves better.”

“Dean, please open the door,” Addison begs.

Jo glances at the closed door. “Dean, my life was good. Really.“

“He was right, you know,” Dean says. “That dick judge. About me.”

“Osiris was full of shit, Dean,” Addison argues.

Jo nods. “She’s right.”

“You were a kid,” Dean tells Jo.

“Not true.”

“You and Sam. No, I just – You know, hunters are never kids. I never was. I didn’t even stop to think about it.”

“It’s not your fault. It wasn’t on you.”

“No. But I didn’t wanna do it alone. Who does? Right then would’ve been to send your ass back home to your mom.”

“I’d like to have seen you try. He was right about one thing.”

“What? Your massive crush on me?”

“Shut up. You carry all kinds of crap you don’t have to, Dean. It kinda gets clearer when you’re dead.”

“Well, in that case, you should be able to see that I am ninety percent…crap. I get rid of that, what then?”

“You really wanna die not knowing?” Silence settles between them. “Dean.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s time.” Jo vanishes and reappears beside stove. Dean watches as she turns on the gas stove. Jo appears in front of Dean and looks down at the salt in. “Come on, Dean. I used to hunt ghosts, I know the tricks.” A window freezes and breaks as the room grows cold. A breeze breaks the salt line and Dean goes to fix it only to find Jo right in front of him. “He’s making me do this.”

“It’s okay.” Jo reaches into Dean’s jacket and pulls out his lighter. She flips it open and looks up at Dean. Then something changes. Jo drops the lighter and lightly stokes Dean’s cheek before vanishing.

Dean turns off the stove and moves the chair away from the bathroom door. He stands there for a moment, then slowly enters the bathroom. Addison was sitting on the floor, with her back against the tub. Tears were streaming down her face. And she looks up at him, he feels nothing but guilt for the pain he just caused her. Addison pushes herself up and stares at Dean. He’s expecting her to slap him. Hell, he more than deserves it. But she moves around him and walks out of the bathroom.

* * *

Dean finds Addison sitting in a bar not far from their latest motel. She had left shortly after they checked in, wanting some alone time. And he hadn’t blamed her in the slightest. But the later it got and she hadn’t come back, he decided to go look for her. He sits down on the empty bar stool next to her. “Whiskey, double,” he orders when the bartender walks over her. He glances at Addison’s empty wine glass. “And a glass of water for her.”

Addison turns to him. “You’re allowed to get drunk in the middle of a case and I’m not allowed to get drunk after a case.”

“Considering the fact that you’ve been here for a few hours, I’d say you’re three sheets to the wind already, Ads.” The bartender returns and places their drinks in front of them. She sighs as she grabs the water and takes a deep gulp.

Her hand touches his thigh and she presses close to him. “You only feel guilty because she was Sam’s friend,” she whispers. She watches he takes a swig of his drink. “Why don’t you hate me? Because I — I have hurt you way worse. You should hate me. A normal person would hate me.”

Dean throws back the rest of his drink, then stands up. He places enough money on the counter to cover the tab and gently tugs Addison out of her seat. He wraps an arm around her shoulders as he guides her out of the bar. He opens the driver’s side door of the Impala and she starts to climb in, but he stops her. “You’re not gonna puke are you?” She shakes her head before climbing in. He climbs in after her and starts the Impala. The short drive back to the motel is silent. The Impala comes to a stop in front of the motel and he shuts it off. “I don’t hate you, Ads. I could never hate you. Even through you’re a massive pain in the ass at times. I mean, you snore, hog the blankets, and you can be a slob at times. And you know what, I say we’re even. Clean slate.” He looks over and finds Addison asleep. He runs a hand over his face and lets out a deep breath.


	5. Shut Up, Dr. Phil

“I hate you,” Addison pants as she and Sam walk back to the motel room after a morning run. They had left a couple hours earlier while Dean was still asleep. She was currently regretting telling the younger Winchester she wanted to be more in shape.

Sam laughs. “You were the one who said you wanted to stay in shape, Ads.”

“Yeah, but I changed my mind. I’m fine with just pigging out for now and trying this next year.” Addison feels her phone buzz and she pulls it out, frowning when she sees the message.

“Is that Dean?”

“Uh, no. It’s from my dad.”

Sam shoots her a concerned look. “Everything okay?”

“Well, they actually schedule a surgery date for Dad. And the doctors say his tumor has grown about ½ a centimeter.”

Sam places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Ads, he’s going to be fine. He’s got some of the best doctors working on him.”

“I know. It just…I wish he would stop being so damn stubborn and just let Sarah heal him.”

Sam shoots her a smile. “C’mon.” He runs ahead and Addison stands there for a second before jogging after him.

“Somebody better be chasing you two,” Dean greets as they enter the motel room. He was sitting at the table with Addison’s MacBook and a glass of whiskey.

“It’s good for you,” Sam argues, taking a couple of sports drinks out of the fridge.

“No, no. It’s good for you. Look at you guys, you’re messes and you stink.”

“You’re one to talk,” Addison mutters, taking one of the drinks from Sam and sitting down across from Dean.

“Well, while you two were being Lance Armstrong—”

“That would be biking,” Sam corrects.

“I was working,” Dean continues. “You ever heard of a town called Prosperity, Indiana?”

“Has anybody?”

“Two of their fine citizens died over the past two weeks. Uh, this one chick, she, uh, roasted underneath one of those beehive hair dryers at a hair salon. And this other guy boiled in a hot tub.”

“You don’t see a lot of that.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s worth checking out,” Addison comments.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, pouring more whiskey in a glass.

“You know, one more thing. What’s going on with you,” Sam asks.

Dean humorlessly chuckles. “We have had this conversation, Sam.”

“No, we haven’t. See, to do that, you’d have to, uh, sort of speak.”

“Okay. See if you can get this straight. See, ahem, you’re new Sam, right? Lance Armstrong.”

“Biking.”

“Ads is Ads and, uh, I’m still me. Okay? All right? So you might see things different now. Uh, call it a runner’s high or some shit. But that doesn’t mean that something is going on with me, okay.”

Sam nods, unconvinced. “Yeah. Okay.”

“No. Don’t say yeah, okay like ‘yeah, okay.’”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam repeats, moving into the bathroom.

Dean turns his attention back to the laptop. He glances up and meets Addison’s gaze. “Don’t.” Addison rolls her eyes as she stands up. She leans forward and his gaze goes to the top of her breasts.

Addison slams her laptop shut. “Stop using my computer to look at cartoon porn.”

“It’s anime and it’s an art form, Ads.”

“Either way, stop using my computer to look at porn. Use Sam’s.”

* * *

“I’m very sorry. I know this is a tough time to have to talk about all this,” Sam tells Wendy Goodwin’s sister as he and Addison talk to her outside. They had chosen to interview the sister while Dean went to the hair salon.

“I’ve already been though it so many times with the lawyers, the police, the insurance guys,” the sister replies.

“Right. We know. We know. It’s just, um, we have to conduct our own separate investigation,” Addison says. “I’m sorry. We know it’s tough. Uh, did your sister have any enemies?”

The sister frowns. “Why do you ask that? You think her death wasn’t accidental?”

“No. No, no, no,” Sam quickly says. “We just have to consider every possibility. Is there anyone who might have wanted to harm her?”

“You don’t live here, so you don’t know. Everyone…loved Wendy. She volunteered at the church. She ran a group for kids. I was the big sister and I looked up to her.”

“Did she know Carl Dunlap,” Addison questions.

The sister shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, Wendy was in real estate, right? Carl was an architect. Maybe they had some business dealings,” Sam says.

“If they had worked together, I would’ve heard the name. Agents, if someone did this to my sister, find out who.”

Sam nods. “We’ll let you know if we find anything.” He and Addison head down the street. “So, Dean’s—”

“Is something that I’m not talking about,” Addison interrupts.

Sam sighs. “Look, Ads, something’s going on with Dean. You can’t deny it.

“Until he opens up, which will probably be never, you can’t expect anything to change. Trust me, Sam, if I could get him talk, then I would. But you just gotta give it time. He needs to work out what he’s working out.”

Sam’s phone rings and he pulls it out. He flashes the screen to reveal to Dean’s name, then answers. “Hey, so the sister didn’t know squat.”

“Same with the salon workers. But I did find a coin,” Dean says over the speaker.

“What kind of coin,” Addison asks.

“It’s not American. I don’t know where it’s from. It was wedged back behind one of those machines. Somebody could have dropped it. Of course, they don’t have pockets in those robe thingies that they make you wear.”

Sam laughs. “I didn’t realize you were such a spa expert.”

“Shut up. I observe with my eyes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say. So, you thinking it must be some kind of hex talisman?”

“Uh, maybe.”

“All right. Pick us up.”

“Why don’t you just run home, Lance?”

“Because my feet hurt,” Addison snaps.

Dean sighs. “All right, I’ll be there in a bit.”

* * *

Addison wrinkles her nose as she and the boys walk near the crime scene. A man had died in a bizarre accident at a construction site and it had caught their attention. They flash their badges before Sam makes his way towards a trailer. “So, what do we know about the vic,” Dean asks a police officer.

“Dewey Stevens — owner, Dewey Stevens Construction, biggest outfit in town. Rotarian, methodist, tenor, blue ribbon pecan pie champ, asthmatic,” the officer tells them. Dean and Addison stare at the officer. “We’re a close knit community.”

“So, this, um, pillar of the community — he was taking a leak before he, uh, sprung a few?”

“The crew had gone for the day. Site was shut down.”

Dean nods as he checks out the port-a-potty. He lifts up the sheet and finds the body. Nails were sticking out from various places, including the eyes. “Anything unusual besides the nails in the eyes?”

The officer motions to the truck. “Well, we’re still trying to figure out where they plugged in the nail gun, seeing as there’s no generator on the truck.”

“Well, when you figure that out, let us know.” Dean looks around the port-a-potty once more and finds another coin hidden in a corner. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna puke.”

Addison shakes her head. “No. But the placement of the placement of the nails is random,” she tells him. Dean shoots her a disbelieving look. He grabs the coin before he and Addison make their way to the trailer. She sits down on the other side of the desk that Sam was sitting at.

“So, another victim everybody likes,” Dean tells him.

“Not everybody,” Sam counters.

“Another physically impossible death. You got any ideas?”

“Cirque du Soleil?”

“Oh, I, uh found another one of these, just like at the, uh, the hair dryer/brain roast.”

Dean hands Sam the coin. He examines the coin before passing it to Addison. “And I found a connection with all the vics. Um, these e-mail logs show Wendy the real estate chick, uh, Carl the architect, and this Dewey guy were all working on a shopping center project together.”

“How come we’re just finding out about this,” Addison asks.

“Well, it all fell apart for some reason. I mean, there are those e-mails back and forth, pretty hot and heavy, and suddenly they just stopped,” Sam explains.

“So, everybody working on this project has died,” Dean questions.

“Well, not yet. Um, they were working with a developer, a guy named Don Stark.”

Dean frowns. “Don Stark? Why do I know that name?”

* * *

The trio are standing in front of a bust of Don Stark outside of a local museum. “Man, this Stark guy is really plugged in, huh,” Sam comments.

“So all the players in this — this shopping center project have either fried, boiled, or kebabbed. He could be next,” Dean says, pulling out a flask.

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? A flask? Dude, we’re working.”

“We’re always working, Addison.”

Sam’s phone beeps and he takes it out. “All right, Bobby e-mailed back. I sent him a few pics of those coins you found. He says the writing is Romanian Cyrillic used only in the mid-15th to the 19th century. Apparently, an antique Walachain ducat.”

“So, we’re looking for an old Romanian?”

“You know what? Is it just me or is this really weird,” Sam asks, motioning to the dead flower around the bust.

“Huh. I’ve seen this once before. The — the plants are all dead in one spot.”

‘Where,” Addison asks.

“A bus bench with Wendy Goodson’s picture on it. I mean, I’m no expert, but I don’t think plants are supposed to act like this.”

* * *

“If the Bureau is involved, I assume you think all three were murdered,” Don Stark says, leading the trio into his study. He was a middle aged man with dark brown hair that was slicked back.

“It’s looking that way, yes,” Dean replies.

“Now, Mr. Stark, you had a relationship with all three victims, correct,” Sam asks.

“Oh, I knew them in business circles, sure,” Don answers.

“And you were all involved in the shopping center project. Why exactly did that fall apart,” Addison questions.

“Uh, these things happen.” A young blonde woman appears in the doorway with a garment bag. “Oh, Jenny. These folks are from the FBI. Jenny Klein, my assistant.”

“Hi there,” Jenny brightly greets, then turns back to Don. “Okay, Don, I’m off to the cleaners, then I’m gonna stop at Beaman, Beaman, and Beaman for the revised contracts.”

“Hurry on back. You know how things fall apart without you.”

Jenny giggles. “Oh, I baked you some cupcakes. Coconut.”

“Coconut. You’re too good to me, Jenny.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Jenny says, then walks off.

“Yeah.” Don notices the looks on the hunters’ faces. “She bakes cupcakes.”

“Yummy,” Dean deadpans.

“Could you point me to the bathroom,” Addison asks, smiling. “These two never stop for bathroom breaks, but they stop all the time for Starbucks.”

“Yeah. Around the corner, down the hall,” Don says.

Addison smiles. “Thank you.” She makes her way down the hallway, then upstairs. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the upstairs area of the two story McMansion, but that didn’t stop her from searching. “Interesting,” she mutters, entering the walk in closet for the master bedroom. Half of the closet was filled with Don’s clothes while the other half was empty. A broken heel sat on a shelf and a couples of spaces above it was a shoe box. She stands on her tiptoes and reaches for the shoe box. Addison grabs an envelope sitting underneath the box and slowly pulls it off the shelf. The shoe box was filled with ingredients and the envelope contained papers with instructions for a spell. After taking pictures of everything, Addison quickly makes her way downstairs.

“But in the end, everyone here respects and admires me,” Don says as Addison enters the study.

“Including your wife,” Addison asks, ignoring the looks from the boys. “I’m sorry. It’s just we heard about you guys splitting up. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, what we heard,” Dean says.

“Yeah. Maggie and I are going through a tough time. Uh, it’s a separation. Temporary,” Don tells them. “Sometimes, you know, you grow apart. It’s no one’s fault.”

“How would you describe the, uh, issues between you and your wife,” Sam questions.

“It’s just one of those marital misunderstandings, you know.”

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t.”

“It’s one of those vague, hard to define passages.”

“She caught you cheating, huh,” Dean says and Don stares at him. “I couldn’t help but notice, uh, things were kind of cordial between you and your assistant. Pretty good with the ladies there, Mr. Stark. It’s a blessing and a curse, isn’t it?”

“Guys, I’m a people person. And I admire dynamic, confident women.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Admire?”

“Okay, look, it’s true, I had a recent little thing with a business associate. That’s all it was.”

“A thing,” Dean repeats.

“Yeah.”

“Like a shoe or a golf club,” Sam says.

“Like a waffle iron,” Dean jokes. “Yeah. See, Don, uh, wives generally think of an affair as something more than a thing.”

“Yes and when Maggie found out about it, she needed some time off. Temporarily.”

“Hmm. Now, if I were to guess that the, uh, business associate was Wendy Goodson would we win a weekend trip to Maui?”

Don lets out a frustrated sigh. “No. Her death had nothing to do with the affair. It was over long before her accident.”

“If it was an accident.”

Don stares at them. “You’re not implying Maggie was behind this.”

“We are not implying anything,” Addison says. “We just think you should be careful. And you should definitely take her to dinner. Some place really nice. Oh, and you should definitely apologize.”

“Yeah. And, uh, grovel. Wouldn’t hurt,” Dean finishes as the trio walks out of the house.

Addison pulls out her iPhone and hands it to Sam. “I found a box of hex stuff that she left behind. And I don’t think she’s coming back any time soon.”

“So Don admires Wendy. Biblically. Wendy dies weird and the scorned wife is into the dark stuff.”

“While Don is just in the dark,” Sam adds.

“Huh. It’s kind of like Betwitched, you know. Don’s Darrin. Don’t even know. A lot of laughs until, uh, you cheat on your wife.”

“Bewitched reference. Really?”

“Dude, Nicole Kidman was in the remake. Redhead. Hello.”

“Hey, do you see these plants,” Addison asks, motioning to the dead plants surround the front porch.

“Oh. It’s kind of like the real estate lady’s place. And Don’s statue thing.”

“You know, if she’s strong enough, just being pissed off is enough to send some bad vibes their way,” Sam says.

“Literally kill off everything around her just by PMSing at it? That’s not creepy at all.” Addison shoots Dean an unamused look as he pulls out his phone and hits speed dial. “Bobby. Hey, it’s Dean. Listen…Winchester. Yeah, very funny. So we need, uh, our kind of Terminix…A witch…Yeah, we’re headed over to her place to get you some more specifics. So if you could just, uh…Yeah — thank—” Dean snaps his phone shuts. “He’s on it.”

* * *

After parking the Impala near the rental house Maggie was staying in, Dean makes his way inside while Sam and Addison stay with the car. Sam pops the hood as Addison pretends to be talking on her phone. Suddenly, a Porsche drives past them and pulls into the driveway of the rental house. Addison dials Dean’s number, but gets a busy signal. She shakes her head and Sam slams the hood on the Impala shut. They run over to see Maggie Stark climb out of the sports call. “Mrs. Stark,” Sam says as they pull out their FBI badges. “Can we have a moment?”

“Of course. Um, would you mind coming back in, say, a half an hour? It’s just a really bad time right now,” Maggie replies.

“It’s very important that we talk to you,” Addison tells her.

“Of course, I’m happy to. I’m just in the middle of an emergency, so please come back. Thank you.”

Maggie moves past them and continues towards the house. Sam and Addison exchange a look. “Do something,” Addison mouths. Sam pushes down on the Porsche and sets the alarm off. Maggie stops and looks at them.

“I’m sorry, uh…Restless leg syndrome,” Sam lies as Maggie turns the alarm off. They smile at Maggie and then make their way back to the Impala.

Dean joins them a few minutes later. He hands Sam a photo. “Spoiler alert. Jenny Klein’s next. Swiped her photo off a hex deck, but Maggie’s gonna notice this is gone, eventually. We gotta get over to Jenny’s.” The trio climbs into the Impala and speed down the road. They arrive at Jenny’s and Dean kicks open the door. Jenny was leaning over the sink, coughing up blood. Sam and Addison get to work searching for the coin while Dean helps Jenny. Sam finds the coin on top of a cabinet and destroys it by shooting it.

Dean helps Jenny to the couch and she lays down. “There were tiny beating hearts in my cupcakes,” Jenny disbelievingly says. “There were hearts in my cupcakes. Hearts in my cupcakes. That’s never happened before! Hearts in my cupcakes!”

“Should I slug her,” Dean mutters.

“Give it a second,” Sam tells him.

Jenny sits up and turns to them. “Oh my God. What just happened?”

“You were hexed,” Addison answers.

Jenny’s jaw drops. “Hexed? Who are you people? What the hell do I do?”

“What you do is you go in there and you pack a bag, then you get in your car and you go,” Dean says.

“Go where?”

“It doesn’t matter. Five or six hundred miles ought to do it,” Sam replies. “You got someone real powerful real pissed and they’re trying to get rid of you now.”

“And you probably want to cool things with Don Stark,” Addison asks.

Jenny frowns. “Don Stark? What are you talking about?”

“You and Don,” Dean says. “You know.”

“‘You know?’ There’s no ‘you know.’”

“No,” Sam asks.

“Don Stark is my boss. That’s it. He’s married for God’s sakes.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean trails off.

Jenny scoffs. “Me and Don Stark. Ewe.”

* * *

The Impala pulls up near the art museum in time to see the bust of Don Stark break in half. They had been following Maggie since leaving Jenny’s apartment. “Okay, now she’s just getting nasty,” Dean comments. “Killing the girlfriend is one thing, but his commemorative bust? That’s gotta hurt.”

Addison shrugs. “If she wasn’t killing folks, I’d be on her side.”

“She’ll take the whole town out. She doesn’t care who gets in the way,” Sam replies.

Dean’s phone rings and he takes it out. “Hey, Bobby, what do you got?…Yeah? You think it will take her out?…All right…Nah, I don’t need to write it down. I’ll remember it. Go head.” Addison rolls her eyes and tosses a small notebook and a pen onto Dean’s lap. “Mmm hmm…The — wh — wait, hang on, hang on.” He grabs the notebook and pen and starts jotting everything down. “I’ll remember. Yeah. It’s fine.”

* * *

Dean stares as Addison keeps her gaze glued to her laptop. A lemon meringue pie sat on the table between them. Each had a fork in their hand. She doesn’t look up from her computer as she grabs another fork full as he moves to grab his first piece. The motel door opens and Sam walks in, carrying a bag of chicken feet. “Dude. Pie.” Sam drops it on the table. “Oh, that’s—”

“Chicken feet. Like the recipe calls for. Butcher’s fridge is down,” Sam tells them.

Dean covers his nose. “I can smell that.”

“It smells like ass,” Addison mutters.

“Uh, he says the power’s been wonky and that he’s lost so much product that he probably won’t make rent. Ditto every shop on the block. Nothing but burst pipes and blackouts. He says it’s like all of a sudden the town ran out of luck,” Sam replies.

Dean grabs the bag and walks over to Sam. “So coincidence, right?”

“Yeah. We’re past the point of dead flowers.”

“What can I say, I guess the witch is pissed. All right, uh, better get a move on. Here, why don’t you just…” Sam stares at the bag. “Can you take the feet?” Sam holds up a bowl and Dean drops the bag.

* * *

“What the hell,” Dean asks as the Impala stops in front of the art museum. Police cars and an ambulance were parked in front of the museum. The trio quickly makes their way into the museum and finds a body covered in a white sheet in the middle of the floor. A puddle of blood was next to a small object that was also covered in a white sheet. “Whoa. Clean up on aisle seven.”

“I doubt she did this to her own auction,” Addison says, looking at the damaged paintings.

“No. Obviously, it was someone who hated her guts and wanted her party trashed.”

“Don Stark,” Sam states.

“So, the mister is a witch himself,” Dean says as they walk out of the museum. “It means we got not just one pissed off witch, we got two. It’s full on War of the Roses.”

“Bewitched just got a lot less funny.”

“Just like when they switched Darrins.”

They climb into the Impala and make their way over to Don’s house. “Where is she,” Sam asks.

“She’ll be here. They’ve been throwing thunderbolts at each other’s favorite toys. There’s nothing left to destroy but each other. This is basically ground zero,” Dean replies.

“I hope so. We’ll need them both in the same place if we want to take them both down,” Addison says.

“Shields up, Captain.” They duck as the sports car speeds into the driveway. Dean grabs the bowl of ingredients and they climb out of the Impala before running across the street. Sam kicks open the door and they enter. Dean chants the incantation that Bobby had given him while Sam lights a match and tosses it in the bowl. Addison raises an eyebrow when nothing happens.

“Let me guess. Chicken feet,” Maggie asks. “Not chilled?”

“For obvious reasons, you won’t be leaving this room,” Don tells them. “Well, you will be leaving just not alive. Maggie?” The witches chant in Romanian.

“Okay, plan B,” Sam says.

“Awesome. What’s plan B,” Addison questions.

“Talking.”

Dean stares in disbelief. “Now? Really?”

“This is obviously a domestic dispute so if you can’t kill them, counsel them.”

“Yeah. You know what? Not my area.” The witches hold out their hands as they finish the spell. “Okay, okay, okay. Uh…Look, obviously, you two are capable of wiping each other out. Right? But you haven’t. Huh? Which means that you two, you still value whatever it is you’ve got. And — and you wanna keep that dance going. Maybe it’s punishment. Maybe it’s sick, messed up, erotic, kinky, clamps and feathers kind of love.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam says, stepping forward. “That’s going way too deep there, cowboy. Look, what he’s trying to say is that you two value whatever it is you have, you’re bonded.”

“Are you out of your mind,” Maggie questions. “He cheated on me. Humiliated me.”

“We’re not trying to say what Don did was right.” Don turns to Sam. “When a relationship cracks, usually both parties have a hand in it.”

“Indeed,” Don agrees.

“You’re defending him,” Maggie disbelievingly asks. She waves a hand and Sam doubles over in pain.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Dean shouts. “Look, nobody can defend Don. Right? Totally. But, uh, we get that you feel betrayed because you were.”

“Don’t suck up to her,” Don says. He waves a hand and Dean goes flying into a glass door.

“I was betrayed. By all of them,” Maggie says, turning to her husband. “Carl introduced you to Wendy. Dewey covered for you. Wendy did you.”

“Okay, okay, look,” Sam says, pushing himself up. “I gotta say, I don’t think Don was lying when he said he regrets the whole Wendy thing.”

“Thing. Sit down.” Maggie waves a finger and Sam crashes to the floor.

“Affair. That’s right. Terrible.”

“I think the only thing he regrets is getting caught.”

“Wendy was nothing to me. It was over as soon as it started,” Don declares.

“She was part of a pattern, okay. I’ve had eight hundred years of this. Do not make me bring up the Renaissance.”

“Oh, oh! You’re one to talk. 1492 ring any bells?”

“The man was about to set sail! He could possibly fall off the edge of the Earth. I took pity. So, what’s your excuse?”

“I told you. Nothing happened with the Medici chick. You’ve always been insanely jealous.”

“Oh, I wonder why. Jenny, Wendy.”

“Jenny? Nothing happened with Jenny. She’s just my assistant.”

Maggie scoffs. “Uh huh.”

Addison nods. “Yeah, they never slept together. Jenny told us.”

Maggie waves a hand and Addison goes flying into the wall. “Is that true?”

“Yes. I swear it, babe,” Don says. “I would never. I made a mistake. I’m sorry, Maggie.”

“See? See,” Sam says, standing. “Guys. Guys. You’re talking. All these years, you — you buried your anger and your disappointment. Till it tore you apart. All you needed to do was talk.”

“And I would’ve missed the nuking my melon just took,” Dean comments. “Who wants that?”

Maggie waves a hand and slams Dean into the wall. Don waves a finger and bees attack Dean. “Nice touch,” Maggie says.

Don smiles. “Thank you. He’s right. I couldn’t kill you. All I ever wanted is you, Mags. I’ve been crushing on you since forever. You’re the woman I wanna never grow old with.”

“I could never murder you either, Don. It’s crazy…but true,” Maggie replies. Don leans in and the reunited couple kiss.

“Somebody wanna call these things off,” Dean asks as the bees continues to buzz around him. Don snaps his fingers and the bees vanish. The trio quickly makes their way out of the house. 

* * *

Dean pulls out his flask and takes a swig as they enter the motel room. Addison stares in disbelief. “Seriously,” she asks, shrugging off her jacket. Sam hangs back, looking between his brother and the woman he considered a sister.

“It’s been a long day,” Dean counters. Addison opens her mouth, ready to argue.

“And it’s not over yet.” The hunters turn to see a man standing in the room. Dean takes out his gun and aims it at the man. “Hi, Sam. Hi, Dean and Addison.”

Sam scoffs. “Do we know you?”

“Well, I definitely know you. You’re the dead guys. Well, you will be in a minute.” Dean shoots the man in the heart and black ooze streams out. The bullet falls out the and the hunters look at it in disbelief. “Sorry. You’re a bit outmatched.” Dean goes to punch the leviathan, but gets thrown into the wall. Addison quickly backs up as Sam moves to punch the monster. The leviathan grabs his hand and wraps a hand around Sam’s neck.

Suddenly, the leviathan releases Sam and falls to the ground. The hunters turn and see Don walking into the room. “Don,” Dean greets, standing. “Wow, thank you. We owe you.”

“Good God, what is that thing,” Don asks, looking at the leviathan.

“We kinda need to figure that out,” Addison answers.

“It’s on our to do list,” Dean adds.

“You know, uh, find a bottomless pit and drop it in,” Don comments, moving past the trio. “That spell will only last for a few days.”

Sam frowns as Don kneels next to his bed. “Uh, what are you even doing here?”

“Uh, apparently, saving your lives. Twice.” Don pulls out a coin from underneath the mattress. “Got it.”

“Maggie? Seriously?”

“She was gonna kill us,” Dean asks as Don turns to the other bed. “We just saved your damn marriage.”

“Yeah. But, to be fair, you also tried to kill her,” Don replies, grabbing the second coin. “You know how she is when she gets a bug up her ass. Gotta love her, right?” The trio stare at the witch. “Right. Bottomless pit. Ciao.”

* * *

Addison groans as she stretches. Being squashed between the boys on the drive up to Rufus’ cabin was not fun. The leviathan was chained up and gagged in the backseat. She walks over to where Dean was filling the Impala while Sam was inside the gas station getting some food. “Don’t,” Dean says, running a hand over his face.

Addison glances to the gas station and sees Sam standing at the counter. “He is going to find out,” she quietly says. “He already knows something is up. And I’ve been doing my best to get him to back off—”

“Really? By doing what?”

“Same thing I always tell him. To give you time because you open up when you’re ready to.” She notices Sam walking out of the gas station. “Look, you need to tell him because when finds out from someone that isn’t you, it’s not gonna be pretty.”

“Hey,” Sam greets, walking up to them. He looks between them. “Everything okay?”

Addison smiles. “Everything’s fine.” She grabs the plastic bag out of his hand and climbs into the Impala. Sam looks at his brother and Dean shrugs.

“PMS,” Dean supplies. He finishes filling the Impala’s tank and climbs into the driver’s seat.


	6. Slash Fiction

Dean walks down into the basement of Rufus’ cabin with Sam behind him. The leviathan they had captured, Chet, was chained up in a chair with Bobby standing in front of him. “And how are my two favorite meat-sicles,” Chet asks.

Dean glances at him before turning to Bobby. “Is he still sucking air?”

“Greatest hits didn’t do the trick,” Bobby answers, setting a syringe down on a table full of tool. “I’m down to B-sides and deep cuts.”

“Well, you better figure out something quick. That whammy that witch dude put on his is only gonna last for a few days. He gets his spinach back, we’re gonna end up having to drop a car on him just to stop him.”

“Actually, Edgar walked away from that car. He’s fine. Well, he is a little pissed at you, but…” Chet smirks at the looks on the hunters’ faces. “Oh. You didn’t know?”

Dean glares at him. “Why don’t you shut your cake trap?”

“Oh.”

“Bobby, you’ve been using all this stuff and he still won’t talk,” Sam questions. Bobby shakes his head as Dean walks over to Chet. Dean pulls over a stool and sits down.

“Huddle over, coach,” Chet mocks.

“How’d you find us,” Dean questions.

“It was easy. I used pattern recognition software and a basic heuristic algorithm to track your known aliases.”

Dean stares then looks at Sam and Bobby. “Great, just what we need, a Mensa monster,” Bobby comments.

Dean stands and walks away while Chet laughs. “All right, let’s just start with the start. Where’d you get our aliases,” Sam asks.

“From your trench coated friend, obviously. When we were all nestled in at Camp Cas, kind of got the full download,” Chet explains. “That’s just how we do.”

“So why are you talking to us, Chet,” Bobby asks, moving towards the leviathan. “You’re not dumb. Why are you spilling state secrets?”

“Because I’m not scared of you. You can’t stop me. You can’t stop any of us. We can’t be killed, you stupid little chew toys. You are aware that I’m the least of your concerns, right?” Silence from the hunters. “Oh. You haven’t watched the news today, have you?”

* * *

Addison sighs as she watches the reporter talk about two men, who were identical to Dean and Sam, murdering everyone in a bank. Bobby turns off the old TV and turns to the boys. “Busy morning, you two,” he comments.

“The sons of bitches xeroxed us,” Dean angrily says.

“But I don’t understand how,” Sam says.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of them touched you at the hospital,” Bobby replies, grabbing some a beer from the fridge.

“It was the hair,” Chet yells from the basement. The hunters stare in the direction of the basement. “Not too hard to lift some DNA out of a motel shower drain, guys.”

“You can copy people like that,” Dean asks. Bobby shrugs in response. “Awesome. Well, what is their plan exactly?”

“Squeeze us,” Sam says. “Turn us into the most wanted men in America.”

“All right. Well, that settles it. We find these ass monkeys and kill them ourselves.”

“Dean, every cop in the country is gonna be looking for you guys,” Addison says.

“Exactly, Ads. So what’s the point in trying to hide?”

“Better than sticking your fool neck out. These things are smarter than you,” Bobby tells them.

“Gee, Bobby, don’t sugarcoat it,” Sam replies.

“You don’t have a clue how to kill them or slow them down. And your plan is what, go right at them? Genius.”

“They’re wearing our faces, Bobby. This is personal,“ Dean snaps.

Sam nods in agreement. “I’m with Dean here.”

Bobby sighs, knowing that there was no winning. “Well, if you’re gonna be stupid, you might as well be smart about it.” He walks over to an old backpack and takes out a worn journal. “You need to see a fellow named Frank Devereaux.”

“Who’s he,“ Sam asks.

“He’s a jackass and a lunatic, but he owes me one, from back in Port Huron.” Bobby hands Dean a piece of paper. “In the meantime, I’ll keep working on Chatty Cathy here, see if I can figure out what makes him die.”

Addison scrunches her nose. “Is it weird that I find it insulting that they didn’t xerox me?”

Dean shoots her a disbelievingly look. “Really, Ads?”

* * *

Dean frowns as he throws a duffle bag into the trunk of the Impala. Addison was sitting on the porch of the cabin, with one of the books Patrick had asked her to translate. He slams the trunk closed and walks over to her. “You coming,” he asks.

“They haven’t xeroxed me for some reason which means that I’m currently off the radar,” Addison replies, closing the book and standing up. “So, I’m gonna stay off the radar. At least while I can anyway. Besides, I can help Bobby figure out what hurts them.”

Dean nods. “Right.”

Addison stares at him. “Did you want me to come with you?”

“Nah. You’re right. Better to have two heads working on a way to kill ‘em.”

Addison nods. “Yeah.” She turns and walks into the cabin. Dean frowns, his gut was telling him something was off.

“Hey.” Dean turns to see Sam. “Where’s Ads?”

“Said she didn’t want to come,” Dean tells him. “You notice something off about her?”

“Patrick’s surgery is next week. She’s probably worried about him,” Sam replies. Dean nods and the boys climb into the Impala.

* * *

Bobby hears footsteps coming down the stairs as he shoots Chet. He was trying to see if bullets had any effect. Salt, iron, and silver had no effect on him. “Woo,” Chet exclaims. “Do it again. Come on, do it again.” Bobby sets the shotgun down on the table. “Just gonna touch me in the morning then just walk away.”

“You’re still talking,“ Bobby snaps.

Chet chuckles. “Aren’t you sick of this yet?”

“You bleed black snot, sure, but you bleed, you can die.”

“Sure, sport, whatever you say. Try the acid again, why don’t you? Poor sap, you’re stumped.”

“Give it a rest, mouthy.”

Chet smirks, glancing at the rope tied around him. “How long you think these will hold once the spell wears off, hmm? Ticktock, old man. I’m gonna really enjoy eating both of you.“

"I said shut up.”

“And then I’m gonna eat everyone you ever said hello to.”

Addison grabs a machete off the table and slices Chet’s head off. “Holy shit,” she says, staring at Chet’s head on the floor.

“Well, that’s something,” Bobby says.

Addison tosses the machete on the table. “I’m going to store. Did you need me to get you anything?“

* * *

Addison frowns as she stares at her laptop. A knocking on the cabin door cause her and Bobby, who was putting away the groceries, to freeze. They exchange a look and they each grab a gun. Bobby walks over to the door and looks through the peep hole. "What the…” he mutters. Addison raises an eyebrow as Bobby smooths down his beard before opening the door. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’re all charm, Bobby,“ a familiar, female, voice replies.

"So my therapist keeps telling me. How’d you find me?”

“I’m a cop, remember? You gonna invite me in?“

"Well, you may not want me to. I got one of the big mouths downstairs.”

“So I won’t go downstairs,” the woman says, then pushes past Bobby into the house.

Addison looks between Bobby and the woman. “Jody, this is Addison Sloan. Addison, Sheriff Jody Mills,” Bobby introduces.

“Oh, from when we had the — the zombies,” Addison says and Jody nods. “Okay, well, uh, yeah. I, uh, I — I’m gonna go call Dean and tell them what we know. So, yeah.” She scoops her laptop and a bag of chips, then disappears down a hallway.

Jody sets the bag of food and six pack on the table. “I, uh, I wanted to come thank you.”

“Thank me,” Bobby asks.

“Yeah. Seeing as they were fresh out of ‘thanks for saving me for that liver eating surgeon’ cards at the store.”

“Oh, that. Just doing my job. Which nobody pays me for.”

“Right. How you doing, Bobby?”

“I’m fine. Every day’s a gift.“

"Your house just burned down.”

“As you can see, I got a roof over me.”

“Bobby, let someone be nice to you for five minutes.”

Bobby pauses. “Okay. But not too nice. I can’t be going soft.”

“Of course not. Now, I can cook. Ish. Why don’t you let me make you something? Maybe put this new place of yours in some kind of order. Come on, I owe you that much.”

“Okay. Thanks, sheriff.”

Jody grins at him. “Jody.”

* * *

“Chopping their heads off won’t kill them, but it’ll slow them down pretty good. Till they fuse back up, anyhow,” Bobby says over the speaker phone as the boys speed down a dark highway in piece of shit car that Dean had hot wired. They’re heading to St. Louis after Sam realized that the leviathans were hitting cities that they had worked cases in before.

“Well, that’s something, I guess. I mean, assuming we can even get close to them,” Sam replies.

“Yeah. Believe me, I don’t want you walking right up to them either. I’m still looking for something you can shoot at them.”

“Good times. All right, thanks, Bobby,” Dean tells him.

“You take mayo, right, Bobby,” a voice asks, causing the boys to exchange a look.

Dean smirks. “You got a chick over there?“

"What? No.”

“Yes,” Addison answers. “She’s making him dinner and everything. Anyway, where are you guys headed to?“

"Uh, St. Louis. That’s where we—” Sam starts.

“They already hit St. Louis. It was that diner that you loved, Dean.”

“Connor’s Diner,“ Dean disbelievingly says.

"Yep.”

“All right, so much for that. I guess we’re off to, uh, Ankeny, Iowa,” Sam says. “Call us if you guys get anything else.”

“No problem. All right, you guys be careful.”

“You too,” Dean replies, then Sam hangs up.

* * *

The boys are walking through Ankeny when an Impala drives right past them. “Sam, Sam. Hold on. Don’t move, don’t move,” Dean says. LeviathanDean and LeviathanSam were sitting in the front seat. It was like looking in a mirror.

“Oh, no. This is all sorts of wrong,” Sam comments as the fakeImpala stops down the road.

“Oh, those are nice wheels. I’ll tell you what, when this is over, I’m stealing those rims.” Dean takes out his phone and hits speed dial for Bobby while watching the leviathans take a couple of guns out of the trunk. “Bobby, we got eyes on them…It’s like looking at a fun house mirror. All right, well, tell me you got something, otherwise we have to get in close.” Sam frowns when LeviathanDean leans over to the seat. The leviathan appeared to be talking to whatever it was trying to reach in the backseat. “It’s too late, we gotta—" A police car pulls up in front of the boys. “Hang on.”

“Hands in the air,” a sheriff demands as another cop car pus up.

“Whoa, whoa, big misunderstanding. Look, the guys you want—”

“Shut up.”

“They’re right there. Just turn around. Look.“

"Drop the phone, put your hands in the air.” Dean drops his phone as the cops place handcuffs on him and Sam. LeviathanDean winks at him before driving off.

* * *

"So, you and Bobby, huh,” Addison says, walking over to where Jody was cleaning up a spilt cup of coffee. Bobby had been in the basement all day, still trying to find something that worked on the leviathans.

Jody laughs. “Not much to tell.”

“Really? Seems like there might be something to tell.”

Jody glances at her. “Like I said, not much to tell.”

Addison nods as she takes a step closer to Jody. ”You know what I could go for? A nice, big, juicy steak.“

“That does sound good.”

“Even better with a glass of wine.”

“Now that I agree with.”

Some of the cleaning solution hits Addison’s toes and she hisses, backing away. Jody shoots her a confused look. Bobby runs into the dining area and Jody turns to him. He stares at the rag in her hand. "Oh, sorry, little snafu here.” Bobby runs over and kisses Jody. “Okay, wasn’t expecting that reaction.”

“What the hell was in that bucket,” Bobby asks and Jody stares at him.

“You know what, I am starving,” Addison says, carefully making her way around way around the small puddle. Bobby frowns. He tenses noticing her burnt toes. He takes the rag from Jody and tosses it. It hits Addison in the face and she screams out in pain.

Bobby pulls Jody back. “What is going on,” the sheriff asks.

“For starters, that ain’t Addison.”

* * *

Dean turns when the sheriff enters the holding area. He was in a cell while Sam was in a different part of the station. “Hey. I have a right to my phone call,” he shouts, leaning against the bars. He had been  in his cell for a few hours and it was only a matter of time before the Leviathans showed up.

"A right,” the sheriff repeats. “You killed how many people last couple days, kidnapped a woman, and you want me to hop on your rights?”

Dean frowns in confusion, then shakes his head. “Look, I didn’t — Please…just give me one phone call.”

The sheriff stares at him, then pulls out his cell and types the number that Dean gives him. “Boys,” Bobby answers.

“Bobby, we got popped.”

"Okay, I’ll be there as soon as—”

"No, no. There’s no time. Look, we saw them, they saw us. So we are coming to get us, you read me? Tell me you got something.”

“There’s a chemical. Sodium borate.“

"Okay, let me get Mr. Wizard on speed dial.”

“No, no, it ain’t as weird as it sounds. It’s found in industrial cleaners and soaps and laundry powder. Just look for anything with the word ‘borax’ on it.”

“You want me to desperate housewife these mothers?”

“Just trust me. It burns them bad enough to slow them down. So get the strongest you can find. Hear me?”

“Borax burns. Got it.”

“Then douse them, then you get close, and then chop the heads off.”

“Got it.”

“And keep the heads separate.”

“Bobby, you’re a genius. Thanks. Is Ads—” The sheriff snaps the phone shut. “What’d you do that for?”

“Borax? Decapitation,” the sheriff says. “What kind of sickos are you and your friends?”

“Hey, you listen to me,” Dean says as the sheriff starts to leave. “If you don’t go get every ounce, every drop of whatever that stuff is, in this place right now, we’re all gonna die.”

“Whoa, you’re crazier than I thought.”

“Hey!” The sheriff ignores him and walks out of the holding area. “Damnit!” Dean runs a hand over his face as he pace the cell. He turns when he hears footsteps and sees the sheriff, who looked terrified and confused. “What is it? What happened?”

“I, uh…it’s just…I don’t know what I just saw.”

“Let me out of here.” The sheriff quickly unlocks the cell door and Dean walks out. “Okay, listen to me and we’ll live. Keep your head down. Get to the supply closet, get anything that says ‘borax’ on it. Bring it here. Now. Go.”

The sheriff runs off while Dean searches the police station. “Sorry,” he tells the dead officer lying on a desk while grabbing a gun. He turns and sees Sam. “Sammy.” Sam coldly stares at him. “Not Sammy.”

Dean shoots LeviathanSam but nothing happens and he gets thrown into a display case. Dean groans as he stands up. He breaks open a case and takes out the fireman’s axe. LeviathanSam laughs. “Cute. Really think you can get close enough to use it?”

“He can’t but I can.” A machete slices through LeviathanSam’s neck and his head falls to the ground. Dean moves back as the leviathan’s body crumbles to the ground and reveals Addison standing behind him.

Dean points the axe at Addison. “How do I know you’re you?” Addison pushes up her sleeve and shows him the fresh cut on her arm. “I thought you wanted to stay behind and lay low.”

Addison stares in disbelief. “Dude, seriously. You think I’m gonna turn down a chance kill something that looks like you.”

Dean shakes his head. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“We don’t got time for this right now, Dean. Let’s just find Sam — the real Sam and get the hell out of here and then I’ll explain.”

The sheriff appears in the squad room with a bucket of borax. “Where’s my brother,“ Dean asks. The sheriff leads them to the interrogation rooms and Dean kicks down the door. The sheriff tosses the bucket of borax on LeviathanDean and Dean chops his head off. Sam was sitting at the table with a shocked look on his face.

The sheriff uncuffs Sam from the table. "So, the FBI is on the way.”

“Yeah, listen about that, uh…”

"Whatever I can do. Especially if it involves lying about everything I just saw.”

“Awesome. Uh, is there a way you can help them be ‘dead,’” Addison asks.

"Yeah, quote-unquote,” Dean adds.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should be able to swing that,” the sheriff replies.

“All right. Come on, let’s grab a mop.” Dean starts out of the room with Addison. He stops when he doesn’t hear Sam and turns to his brother. “Sammy, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sam replies.

“And you’re going to tell me how you’re here and not with Bobby,” Dean says as he and Addison walk out of the room.

* * *

Dean shakes his head as they climb out of the piece of shit car. They were parked near a lake. “So, they kidnap you after you get your hair cut and xerox you for some kind of rescue mission,“ he asks, popping open the trunk. “Why not just kill you?”

“Maybe they wanted to eat me in front of you. Torture or something,” Addison replies. She leans against the car and lets out a deep breath. "All I want is a hot shower, a warm bed, and to sleep for the next week. And something to eat. I’m starving.”

“I’ll second that.”

“How in hell did you not realize that I wasn’t me?” Dean remains silent and Addison stares in disbelief. She smacks his arm “Seriously?

“Hey, I would’ve figured it out eventually.” Dean opens the duffle with two heads wrapped in plastic. He looks at Sam, who had been silent most of the ride out of Iowa. "You sure you wanna dump these things? I’m thinking they might actually come in handy down the road. What do you think?” Sam remains silent and Dean sighs. “What? What is it? Talk.”

“Nothing,” Sam says.

“Well, that’s convincing. Look, did Monster R Us give you jeebs? Cause I gotta be honest, I ain’t looking in the mirror for a while myself.”

“Okay.” Sam turns to his older brother. “You really wanna know what’s wrong?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you know my motto: here to help.”

Sam scoffs. “'Here to help.’ Kind of like you helped Amy?“

"Listen, Sam—”

“Don’t - don’t lie to me again. You know what, don’t even talk to me.“ Sam sighs. "Yeah, I can’t.” He grabs his bags out of the backseat. “You know what, Dean? I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

“I can’t talk to you right now. Dean, I can’t even be around you right now.”

“Okay, so…?”

“So I think you both should just go on without me. Go.”

“All right. Sorry, Sam.”

“Sam,” Addison calls as he walks off. She comfortingly pats Dean on the arm, before going after the younger Winchester. “Sam, wait.”

Sam stops and turns. “Did you know,” he angrily asks. Addison remains silent and he scoffs. “Of course you knew.”

“Fine, you’re pissed, Sam. But you shouldn’t leave. The last thing we need to do right now is split up.” Sam pushes past her and continues walking down the road. Addison stands there for a moment, then walks back over to Dean and climbs into the car.


	7. Drive

Addison walks through the bar to where Dean was sitting. She rolls her eyes when he checks out a passing waitress. She sits down across from him in the booth, newspaper in hand. “Find anything,” he asks, taking a swig of his beer. A few days had passed since Sam had left them in Iowa. And neither of them had heard from him since then.

“Uh, no. It’s actually pretty quiet. Which is a good thing since we’re going to Rochester, Minnesota,” Addison replies.

Dean frowns. “Why are we going to Minnesota? If it’s quiet, I say we take a little R&R.”

“Because my dad’s surgery is in a couple of days. And I want to be there.”

“Ads…”

“Look, I’m going. You can come with me or I can meet up with you in a couple of weeks.”

Dean runs a hand over his face. “All right. We’ll head up to Rochester.” He waves for the waitress to come over and Addison smiles at him. He smiles as the waitress sets down the check and winks at him. “And you owe me some R&R.”

Addison laughs. “Fine. You can have your R&R at my dad’s place. Just make sure to wash the sheets when you’re done. He’s probably gonna be in the hospital for a while anyway after the surgery. Besides, we kinda need to lay low for a couple of weeks anyway.”

“Yeah, my mug is still plastered all over the news.”

“Yeah. And the whole not shaving is part of your disguise, Clark Kent?”

Dean shrugs and scratches his face. “Chicks dig the beard.”

Addison grabs the check and turns it over to reveal the phone number written on the back. “Yeah, especially under age waitresses.”

“How do you know she’s underage? She’s probably eighteen and perfectly legal.”

Addison smirks. “She was in the bathroom saying she wanted to get back at Ricky since he dumped her two weeks before winter formal.”

* * *

“Dad,” Addison brightly greets, walking into the hospital room. Patrick was sitting in the hospital bed, watching TV. She tightly embraces him as Dean takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. She rolls her eyes when she sees him put his feet up on her father’s bed. “Dean.”

Patrick laughs. “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“You’re having major surgery. Of course I would be here.”

“Where’s Sam?”

Dean and Addison exchange a look. “Sam’s got the flu,” Dean tells him. “He’s at Rufus’ cabin, probably researching instead of relaxing.”

“Hopefully, he’ll get better soon,” Patrick replies, shifting. “I got some books at home I think he’d like.” He grabs the pitcher off the night stand and waves it at his daughter. “Ads, can you get some ice chips?”

Addison grabs the pitcher. “Sure,” she softly says. She squeezes his arm and walks out of the hospital room.

“The top drawer in my desk has a copy of my will,” Patrick says, turning to Dean. “Everything’s been left to Addison, but you get the weapons and Sam gets my books. And my lawyer knows all about the job. His father was a buddy of mine. I’ve already signed the DNR forms.”

“Why are you telling me this,” Dean asks. “Shouldn’t you be telling Addison?”

“Addison thinks that I’m going to survive this surgery. And I’m not going to take away the hope she has. I already talked to Sam about this last week, but since he’s got the flu and isn’t here you’re the one that’s gonna have to deal with everything. There’s a man down in the morgue, Spencer, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. So, you’ll have no problem getting my body out while he’s on duty. And I want a hunter’s funeral.”

Dean shakes his head disbelief. “You’re going to let Addison spend all day sitting in the waiting room when you know that you’re not going to survive this surgery?”

“It’s never been done before, Dean. Dr. Shepherd was the forth doctor I saw and the first one to tell me something other than I got six months to live. Because the other three doctors I saw thought I would be dead by now and it’s been four years since I was diagnosed. I’ve did radiation for six months and now the tumor is small enough for Dr. Shepherd to attempt surgery. So, if I survive this surgery it’ll be a miracle. One not caused by Sarah. And I’ll have more time with my daughter and you can forget we talked about this. If I don’t…well, I already told you everything.”

“So, ice chips for you,” Addison says, walking into the room. She tosses a soda can to Dean and sits down on the edge of Patrick’s bed. “And soda for us.”

Patrick grins. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

Addison glances between her father and best friend. “Did you two play nice?”

“Of course we did,” Dean replies, standing up. “I’m gonna hit up your place, Patrick. Don’t worry, I’ll only drink the good stuff.”

“Afraid you’ll have to go to a store for any alcohol, Dean,” Patrick tells him. “I stopped drinking about five years ago. I’ve been on an all organic vegan diet since then.”

Dean nods. “All right. So, booze and meat stop it is then. I’ll be back later.” Addison shoots him a small smile and he walks out of the hospital room.

* * *

Addison looks up when someone sits down next to her. She had been sitting in the hospital waiting room, ever since her father had went into surgery. Dean holds out the flask and she takes it from him. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be have a flask in a hospital,” she quietly replies, then takes a swig of whiskey.

“Any news,” Dean asks, taking the flask back. He shoves it in the inner pocket of his leather jacket.

“No. It’s been hours. No one’s come out to update me. I think something’s wrong.”

“That’s a good thing, Ads.”

“Or it’s a very bad thing. What if they’re so busy trying to save his life they haven’t had time to come give me an update?”

Dean runs a hand over his face. “Well, I found some cash in Patrick’s place and used it by some booze and meat. And I got the stuff you like.” Addison lays her head on his shoulder. “You’ve been here all day, Ads. Go take a break, get some rest.”

Addison shakes her head while trying not to yawn. “I’m not leaving until Dad’s out of surgery.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders and within seconds she’s asleep.

“I’m so sorry.” Dean looks up to find Sarah plopping down on the bench seat across from them. “My flight from Maui got delayed, which caused me to miss my flight to Minneapolis,” she complains. She smiles, noticing a sleeping Addison. “Why don’t you guys go back to Patrick’s?”

“She doesn’t want to leave until Patrick’s out of surgery,” Dean explains and a silence settles over them.

“Are you Patrick Sloan’s family?” Dean looks up to see brunette woman wearing dark blue scrubs standing in front of them. In any other situation, he would’ve been hitting on her faster than he could order his favorite beer. He glances at his watch and finds that hours had passed since Sarah had joined him and Addison in the waiting room.

Dean lightly shakes Addison’s shoulder. “Hey. Doctor’s here.”

Addison rubs her face and slowly stands up. “How’s my dad?”

“We did everything we could,” the doctor softly says. Dean stands up and places a comforting hand on Addison’s back. “I managed to get the tumor out but as I was closing up, Patrick started bleeding…I did everything I could.”

“Thank — thank you,” Addison quietly replies. “Can — Is it possible to for me to get his stuff out of his room?”

“Yeah, that’s no problem.” Addison quickly walks away. Sarah runs a hand through her hair, then goes after her. Dr. Shepherd moves closer to Dean. “Spencer will be on duty tomorrow afternoon. And since I don’t have surgery tomorrow, I can help with him.”

“How many people know that Patrick’s a hunter,” Dean asks.

Dr. Shepherd smiles. “Quite a few of us. He saved my life when I was in med school. I kept in contact with him over the years. Calling him whenever I had bizarre cases show up. And anytime he was seriously injured, he would call me.” Her pager goes off and Dr. Shepherd sighs. “Excuse me. Give Addison my condolences.”

* * *

Addison rubs her face as she walks into the kitchen of the one bedroom apartment that Patrick had. Her, Dean, and Sarah had burned his body the night before in an empty field. Snow had started falling while they had watched his body burned. She stares at the scene in front of her. Dean was carefully flipping fried eggs in a pan. “You’re making breakfast,” she softly says.

“Hey, I can cook,” Dean defends.

She spots the glowing numbers on the microwave. “It’s two in the afternoon. And you’re making breakfast.”

“Considering we didn’t go to bed until five this morning, this is morning for us.”

“True.” Addison opens the refrigerator door and stares at the mountain of casserole dishes. “How many people did my dad know here?”

“Apparently a lot. And they brought enough food to last a month.”

“What? Did people show up with ‘Sorry for your loss’ casseroles hoping that someone would be here?”

Dean turns off the stove and leads her out of the kitchen. “I talked with Patrick’s landlord yesterday. I guess he told them.” He pushes her onto the couch and he sits on the coffee table. “Landlord said the rent was paid until the end of the month. We can stay—”

“I just want to go through his stuff and get back to work.”

Dean shakes his head. “Ads, you need a break.”

“Why? Cause my dad is actually dead this time.” She notices the concerned look on Dean’s face. “I’m fine. Okay.” She motions to the over filled bookshelves and stands up. “I’ll start going through the books if you want to grab some boxes.” Addison takes a step towards the bookshelves and sways. He grabs her and gently pushes her onto the couch. “Dean, I’m—”

“You haven’t eaten in at least two days,” Dean interrupts. “So, you’re gonna sit your ass on the damn couch, you’re gonna eat, and you’re gonna watch shitty day time TV.”

Addison blinks up at her best friend. “When did you get so bossy?”

Dean smirks. “You’re a stubborn pain the ass.”

* * *

Addison places the arm full of plaid shirts on the bed. The tedious task of going through her father’s stuff had begun and she hated it. As she had went through his stuff, she felt like she was getting to know a different side to her father. She frowns, seeing the garment bag hanging in the back of the closet. She grabs the garment bag and sets it on top of the bed before unzipping it.

_Addison frowns as Patrick parks the Mustang in front of a bridal shop. She watches as he unrolls his sleeve to cover the bandage on his right arm. “Dad, what are we doing here,” she quietly asks, dreading his response._

_“I’m not going to be there to walk you down the aisle,” Patrick begins, grabbing her hand. “But I have three thousand dollars put away for emergencies. And we’re gonna use it to find your wedding dress.”_

_“Dad, we’re going to find a way to save you. I mean, what if you don’t even turn in the first place. What if you’re—”_

_“It’s a lot of ifs, Addison.” He squeezes her hand. “Just…humor me. Please. Because we both know what the reality is, even if we don’t want to admit it yet.”_

_Addison sighs. “No pictures. Okay?”_

_Patrick sadly smiles. “No pictures.”_

“Bobby’s on his way to grab the books,” Dean says, walking into the bedroom.

Addison hastily wipes away the tears. “That’s good,” she softly replies, zipping up the garment bag. “Most of his clothes are your size, so you can take what you want and we’ll just donate the rest.”

“One of those casseroles is heating up. I think it’s tuna.” Addison stares at him. “What?”

“You’re like domesticated or something.”

“Shut up.”

Addison laughs. “Get over here and grab this box that I can’t reach.” He smirks as he grabs the box off the high shelf in the closet. Dean places it on the bed and she opens it. “I can’t believe he kept all this.”

Dean grabs an old newspaper clipping. “‘Mr. Wesley Arthur Bennett, son of Daniel and Margaret Bennett and Addison Bridget Sloan, daughter of Patrick and Juliet Sloan are pleased to announce their engagement. They were engaged on February 20 in Paris, France during a weekend getaway. They plan to wed in the summer of 2001 after graduating Yale University,’” he reads.

“That can go in the trash.”

Addison rummages through the box and Dean eyes the garment bag. “What about your wedding dress?”

She sighs. “I want to keep it. I’ve never actually worn it. If I ever have a wedding, like a real wedding and not like that drunken Vegas not legal wedding we attempted, I’d like to wear it. Besides, wedding dresses are expensive. And if I have a wedding then I’d rather not spend another thousand dollars on a dress.”

“You spent a thousand dollars on a dress that you’re only supposed to wear once.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Shut up.” She smiles, pulling out the hardcover folder. “I haven’t seen this in forever.” Dean looks over her shoulder sees the words ‘Yale University’ printed on the cover. “Definitely keeping this. I worked my ass off for it.”

“You spent four years of your life working on getting a piece of paper.”

Addison puts her degree back in the box and places the lid on the box. “How about you go check on your casserole, Mr. Domestic?”

* * *

“Dean.” He feels a light touch on his chest. “Dean.” He opens his eyes to find Addison perched on the coffee table. The glow of the TV illuminated the living room. He sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry,” she softly tells him. “I just…I can’t sleep.” He lifts up the blanket and she crawls onto the couch, laying more on him than the couch. “Have you talked to Sam?”

“He doesn’t pick up when I call,” Dean says, his hand sliding underneath the t-shirt she was wearing.

“Same here.” A silence settles over them. His eyes start to drift close. “I really missed you. I almost called you so many times, but I always chickened out.”

Dean shifts to where he was facing her. “I did call you.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t pick up.”

“I listened to all your voicemails.”

Dean winces. “Yeah, the one I left on your birthday wasn’t my finest point.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You know I didn’t mean anything I said.”

“Dude, you were drunk off your ass. Doesn’t count.” She bites her lip. “I Facebook stalked Lisa. Cause I - I was to chicken to call you and it was the only way that I could see if you were okay.”

“Wow. That - that is fucking crazy. Did the bleach seep into your brain?”

Addison laughs, slapping his arm. “Shut up.”

His fingers thread through her hair. “Seriously, every time you bleach it, it just seeps into your brain.” His hand slides down to her neck, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. She could make out the flecks of gold in his emerald eyes. Her gaze goes between his eyes and his mouth. She could feel his breath on her lips. Addison closes the gap between them, brushing her lips against his. She starts to pull back but he pulls her close. He bites on her bottom lip as she rakes her nails through his hair. Dean grasps the back of her thigh and tugs her leg over his waist. In a swift move, he rolls onto his back, pulling her on top.

Addison slowly grinds against his hardening length. His hands push up the t-shirt she was wearing. She sits up, tugging her shirt off. His lips trail down her neck, biting and sucking every inch of skin he could reach. Her hand trails over his chest before sliding into his boxer briefs. “Fuck,” Dean groans when her hand wraps around him. He falls back against the couch, eyes closed. He thrusts into her hand. Her tongue thrusts into his mouth, exploring every familiar crevice. She pulls back, lips trailing across his chest. Her tongue flicks his nipple, causing him to grunt. She continues moving down, pulling his boxer briefs down. He grabs a fistful of her hair as she sucks him into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around him. Her tongue presses into the slit and he thrusts. Her cheeks hollow out as she bobs up and down.

Dean tugs on her hair and she releases him with a wet pop. Addison presses her lips against his. His hands into in the shorts she was wearing and pushes them down. “Dean,” she moans as his thumb presses against her clit. He slides a finger into her. Her head drops to his shoulder. Another finger slides in. “Fuck, Dean, I’m - I’m so - fuck!” He curls his fingers, pressing against her g-spot and she clenches around him, waves of rippling pleasure coursing through her. He pulls his hand away and she stares down at him. She grips his cock and slowly sinks down onto him. His hands grip her hips, thrusting up into her.

Their rhythm is hard and fast. Matching each other on every thrust. Dean presses his thumb against her clit and Addison comes with a shout of his name. She doesn’t stop moving, slamming down on him. “Fuck, Ads,” Dean roars, filling her. She falls onto his chest. Neither of them move, just laying there.

Addison presses a kiss to his sweaty chest before sitting up. He frowns as she pulls on her t-shirt and panties. “We have a giant bed in the next room,” she reminds, smiling.

“I just don’t know why you’re putting clothes back on,” Dean counters, standing up. He pulls her against his chest. He grasps her panties and pushes them down. “It’s a waste of time to put them back on when I’m just gonna take them off again, sweetheart.”

He picks up her and she laughs, wrapping her legs around him. “You got me there.” She softly kisses him. “How about we go make use of that bed?”

* * *

Dean rolls over, expecting to Addison curled up next to him. But he finds the spot next to him empty. He grabs his boxer briefs off the floor and tugs them on before venturing out of the bedroom. A note was sitting on the counter with Addison’s messy writing on it. ‘Went to get breakfast.’ He grabs the nearly empty bag of coffee grounds from the cabinet and sets to making a pot of coffee. He doesn’t look up as the front door opens. “You’d get coffee,” he asks.

“No, but I can run to the store and get you two some,” Sarah greets, shaking the snow off of her coat. “Where’s Addison?”

“You haven’t been around since we burned Patrick’s body and now you’re here,” Dean disbelievingly asks, staring at her.

Sarah rolls her eyes. “I had some stuff to do.”

Dean frowns. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun. “Are you high?”

“I wish.” Her dark brown eyes roam over Dean and she smirks. “Well, I can take three guesses as to what you and Addison have been doing.”

Dean shakes his head. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Well, I came to help start sorting through Patrick’s stuff, but apparently you guys already did that,” Sarah replies, climbing onto the counter. Dean reaches up to grab a mug out of the cabinet next to Sarah’s head. Her finger trails over the anti possession tattoo on his chest. “Between you and Sam, I would definitely pick you.”

Dean wraps a hand around her wrist. “I don’t know what game you’re playing—”

Sarah presses her lips against his. He can smell the liquor emanating from her. Her tongue darts out, licking at his lips. He moves back as a throat clearing gets his attention. Addison was standing awkwardly in the doorway. She was clutching a plastic bag in one hand while she held a tray with a couple of cups of coffee in the other. “I - I got breakfast,” Addison softly says.

“Yummy,” Sarah says, sliding off the counter. She goes to take the bag from Addison, but Addison shakes her head. “Addison—”

“I think you should go,” Addison tells her.

Sarah frowns. “What?”

“You’ve been off partying since we had Dad’s funeral. You’ve been partying since the leviathans broke out of Purgatory.”

“Which is something that you guys caused.”

“And we’re trying to fix it.”

Sarah scoffs. “You can’t fix it, Addison. Hell, you three barely managed to stop the fucking apocalypse. How in the fuck can you fix leviathans escaping Purgatory?”

Dean steps forward. “Doesn’t matter, but we’re going to try. And unless you’re actually gonna help, then you should leave.”

Sarah looks between them, then pushes past Addison as she storms out of the apartment. Addison sighs, placing the food and coffee on the counter. “We’re so fucked if we actually need her help,” she tells him.

“We’ll be fine,” Dean says, grabbing one of the cups of coffee.

“Bobby’s on his way to pick up the books. I dropped off all Dad’s clothes at Goodwill. And the landlord said Dad got the place fully furnished, so that takes care of the furniture.  So we can head out tomorrow.”

“Place is paid through until the end of the month.” He opens one of the styrofoam containers to revealed that it was filled with fried eggs and bacon. “Besides, mine and Sam’s mugs are still all over the news. So, we’re gonna lie low for a while.”

“Fine, but if I find a case then we’re taking it.”

“Deal.” She reaches for a piece of bacon, but he moves the container out of the way. “Get your own bacon.”

Addison rolls her eyes, but shoots him a smile. “Ass.”

“Jerk.”


	8. The Mentalists

Addison yawns as they walk down a street, looking for a ‘new’ car. She was sure that she missed the Impala more than Dean did. She takes another bite of her barbecue sandwich watching as he checks his phone. She knew what he was looking for. Sam hadn’t even bothered to call or respond to her texts. They stop next to a dull blue car. Dean looks around, then pulls out a lock hook and unlocks it. Addison scowls as she climbs into the passenger seat. She looks at Dean, with disbelieving look. He ignores her and hotwires the car. It starts and the radio comes on. A pair of fuzzy dice were hanging from the rearview mirror. She yanks them down and tosses them into the backseat. “You’re listening to the morning chaos with me, Bananas Foster,” the radio announcer says.

“The hell I am, ass hat,” Dean snaps, moving to change the station.

“And now for the news of the weird,” Bananas Foster continues causing Dean to pause. “Two very odd murders to be exact. Mediums are dying in Lily Dale, the most psychic town in America. So if you want to know your future, stick to that 900 line cause is it me or should those guys have seen it coming.”

Addison leans forward and changes the station to the local classic rock one as Dean drives down the street. “I miss the Impala,” she says.

“You and me both,” Dean replies.

She shifts in the seat. “Can you remind me again why we just couldn’t take my dad’s car?”

“Because the leviathans could be tracking it,” Dean replies, shooting her an annoyed look. They had left Patrick’s a few days earlier and despite her insistence on taking his sensible, anonymous looking car, he had argue that since the leviathans were tracking the Impala then it was more than possible they were tracking Patrick’s car.

Addison sighs as she tosses some of the garbage in the backseat. “Can we at least get one that’s clean next time?”

* * *

Dean and Addison flash their fake FBI badges at the local cops standing outside of a house. The house had belonged to the latest psychic to be murdered and upon reading about the death online, the hunters had exchange disbelieving looks. No one was standing guard outside of the seance room. Addison rolls her eyes when Dean sits down in a chair at the round table.

Noises fill the room and Addison stares at him. Dean presses another switch under the table and the curtains move. He smirks. “O spirits of the further, am I going to win the Powerball,” Dean asks. He presses a different button and a knocking sound fills the room. “Ads, we’re gonna be rich.”

Addison smirks at him. “O spirits of the further, is Dean getting laid anytime this week?”

One knock. “Spirits say I am.”

She waves a hand along her body. “This says you’re not. Anyway, I say we get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“Shut up.”

* * *

Addison raises an eyebrow at the sign sitting by the door of the Good Graces Cafe. “Hello!” They turn to see a cheerful waiter walking towards them. “First time at Good Graces?”

“Yes,” Dean answers.

“Well, we’re a hundred percent locally sourced, biodynamic, and you get a free affirmation with every order.”

“Think we’ll source a taco joint.”

A dismayed look appears on the waiter’s face. “All right.”

Addison’s halfway out the door when Dean grabs her arm. She lets out a frustrated sigh as he pulls her over to a booth where Sam was sitting. “You always wear a suit to get your palm read?” Sam ignores them in response. “Yeah. Not surprised you caught this one. It’s on every morning zoo in America. You mind?” Sam waves a hand at the empty seat across from him while moving the file he was looking through to his lap and they slide in across from him. “So, we, uh, we went to the scene. Wires, speakers, enough EMF to make your hair stand up. Don’t even think about getting a reading. Oh, and, uh, if this hadn’t have been two psychics that bit it…I would have just chalked this up as being, uh, dumb and accident. And I know, I know. This whole town’s supposedly calling ghost. But that takes some serious spell work and some serious mojo. The only books this lady had were Oprah crap. When was the last time you actually saw a real psychic? Huh? Pamela? Missouri? Anyway, this is good. And, uh, how you been?”

“And what can I get for you,” the waiter brightly asks, suddenly appearing by the booth.

“Uh, pancakes, side of pig. Coffee, black.”

“A omelet with extra peppers and some Tabasco sauce. And some orange juice,” Addison answers.

“Fantastic. You are a virile manifestation of the divine,” the waiter tells her before walking away.

“What the fuck did he say to me,” Dean asks.

“He said you’re hot,” Addison replies. She laughs at the smug look that appears on Dean’s face.

Sam shakes his head. “Dean…”

“Oh, he speaks,” Dean quips.

“Look—”

“Sam. Look, we’re all here. All right, the chance of either one of us leaving while people are still dying out there…” Dean makes a zero with his hand. “You might as well bite the bullet and work with us on this one.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“I’m not asking you to open a can of worms. I’m not even asking you where the hell you been the past month.”

“Good.”

“I’m just saying let’s try and stop the killings. That’s it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Good.”

Addison shifts when she notices a woman staring at them. “Can I help you?”

The woman glances at Addison before turning back to the boys. “You’re the brothers, from the—”

“Oh, no, no,” Sam interrupts. “The Winchester guys on the news a few weeks back? No, we get that a lot.”

“Yeah, those depraved killers got put down like the dogs that they were,” Dean adds. “Yeah. Us on the other hand, we’re completely harmless.”

The woman giggles. “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. Silly me. I can see by your energies you’re completely gentle.” The woman looks at Addison. “Except you. Your energy is very hostile.”

Dean smirks. “Yeah, she’s not exactly the friendliest person.”

“Excuse my friend,” a man says, walking up and wrapping an arm around the woman’s shoulders. “She’s excitable. Sweetheart, look at them, hmm? They’re FBI.”

The woman’s eyes go wide. “Oh!”

“I’m Russian. We can spot the law. You must be here about the tragedies.”

“Oh, we’re just beside ourselves about what happened.”

“Yeah. And so close to festival season, huh,” Dean asks.

“Yeah. No.”

“Of course we are worried, we have no idea what’s going on, huh,” the man tells them. He takes out a business card and holds it out to Sam. “Nikolai. Let me know if I can help you. I’m highly intuitive.”

Sam takes the business card. “Nikolai Lishin, spoon bender,” he reads.

“World famous.” Nikolai grabs a spoon off the table. “Come to my demonstration at the festival, huh? Teach you to harness the power of your mind.” Nikolai lays the spoon on the table. “Come. Let’s leave them be.”

“So glad we decided to vacation here,” Dean comments as Nikolai and the woman walk away.

“All right,” Sam says, clearing his throat. “Here we go.” He opens the file he had been looking through earlier. “First death. Second death.” He turns the file towards them.

“What are looking at,” Addison asks.

“Well, see this. This is Imelda Graven. Death number one. She was brained by her own crystal ball.”

“Bummer and ironic,” Dean chuckles. He flips through the pictures of the psychics. “Same necklace?”

“Yeah. See Imelda gave it to Goldy in her will.”

“Cursed object,” Addison asks.

“Worth looking into. Goldy’s next of kin lives in town. Also a psychic.”

“Oh, good. I haven’t had my fill,” Dean comments.

Sam grabs his spoon and watches as it bends. He holds it up. “He broke my spoon.”

* * *

“Melanie Golden,” Dean asks as they walk up to small house. Two women walk out of the house. One was a pale brunette and the other was an African-American woman. The brunette looks up and they each flash their FBI badges. “Hi. Uh, got a minute?”

“You want me to stay,” the African-American woman asks.

“No, that’s okay,” Melanie replies. The women hug before the African-American woman leaves. “A friend. Just heard about my grandmother. Which is, I guess, why you guys are here. So come on in.” The trio follow Melanie into her home. She runs over to a suitcase sitting on the coffee table and quickly closes it. “Sorry. Just got back.”

“You were out of town,” Dean asks.

“I work the circuit. Hotels, conventions, you know.”

“Oh. No offense, but, uh, you don’t seem all that psychic.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, I mean, you know…where’s all the, uh, crystals and pyramids,” Dean says, motioning around to Melanie’s normal looking living room.

“I’m off the clock. Also, not psychic.” The trio shoots Melanie disbelieving looks. “What? It’s an honest living.”

“Interesting definition of honest.”

“Well, I honestly read people. It’s just less woo-woo, more body language. Like you three. Long time partners. But, um, a lot of tension. Especially between you two,” Melanie says, looking between the boys. She looks at Sam. “You’re pissed.” She turns to Dean. “And you’re stressed. It’s not brain surgery. It’s kinda why my grandma and me didn’t get along. I mean, she’d go full smoke machine, but she still actually believed in all that stuff. So…”

“You don’t.”

“You do?”

“I’ve got an open mind. You’d be surprised.”

“Hmmm.”

Addison clears her throat. “We’re sorry to ask this, but there’s a necklace that belong to your grandmother—”

“Don’t have it. Everything went straight to the Emporium,” Melanie tells them. “She had a deal with the owner.”

“The Emporium,” Sam asks.

* * *

The Emporium turned out to be a used goods store in downtown Lily Dale. They walk over to the counter where a man was drinking coffee and reading the paper. “You’re looking for something,” the man greets when they reach him.

“You’re good,” Dean sarcastically replies.

“You Jimmy Tomorrow,” Sam asks.

Jimmy nods. “Mmm hmm.”

“We’re looking for a necklace.”

“Oh. Romantic.”

“It would’ve come in with Grandma Goldy’s effects,” Sam says, taking out a photo of the necklace.

Jimmy taps the photo. “Oh, yeah, yes, you do know that this is the Orb of Thessaly.”

“We did not know,” Dean replies.

Jimmy grabs an old box and places it on the counter. “Very powerful, very rare.”

“Let me guess. Very expensive.”

“Worth every penny,” Jimmy tells them, opening the box.

He takes out a jewelry box and opens it to reveal the necklace. “Well, in that case, we’ll be taking the State’s Evidence discount,” Dean says, as the trio flash their FBI badges.

Jimmy frowns. “What’s going on?”

“A murder investigation,” Addison says, reaching for the necklace.

Jimmy grabs her wrist and Addison feels Dean tense beside her. “You know, I give private energetic readings.”

Addison rips her arm out of Jimmy’s grasp. “No, thank you.”

Jimmy looks at Sam. “A loss weighs on you, you’re angry. It’s complicated. Come see me, agent.”

Sam stares at Jimmy while Addison grabs the necklace. Jimmy holds out a business card and Sam reluctantly takes it. “Thanks, Jimmy, we’ll see,” Dean tells him, then follows Sam and Addison.

“The Bureau’s gonna reimburse me for the necklace, right,” Jimmy asks.

“Oh, we’ll send you a check.” Dean catches up with Sam and Addison as they leave the store. “Went a little Mentalist on you there, didn’t he,” he says to Sam. Sam glances at him, unamused. “All right. Next question. What’s an Orb of Thessaly?”

“Well, this thing was made in Taiwan,” Addison says, handing the necklace over to Sam.

“Oh, a fake, around here. Imagine that. Of course, that means that, uh, whatever’s killing mediums is still out there,” Dean says they reach the piece of shit car they were currently using.

* * *

“Probably should’ve bent those with the power of his mind,” Dean comments as they enter the home of Nikolai. The psychic’s body was lying on the coffee table, with an entire cutlery drawer sticking out of his back.

“Chief,” Sam says, walking over to a middle aged man. “We met at the station.”

The police chief nods. “Right. Morning, agent.”

“Morning. Uh, these are Agents Bourne and Parsons. So, what happened?”

“It’s a weird one. Chest full of cutlery.”

“Uh, we’re gonna look around, let us know if you got any leads,” Dean tells him.

“Oh, I got leads coming out of my ass. As of 9:00, our tip line had forty-six calls. All from clairvoyants that know what really happened.”

“What’s the popular theory,” Addison asks.

“It’s a toss up between a ghost and some sort of ogre that only attacks Russians.”

“Policing Lily Dale sounds fun.”

“It was this or Los Angeles.”

“So, these clairvoyants, did they give any details as to why they thought it was a ghost or, uh, a Russian ogre,” Sam questions.

“Their spirit monkey said so. Plus apparently this guy claims he had a vision of his own death. Cutlery and all.”

Dean’s cell phone rings. “Excuse me.” He walks a couple of feet away while Sam and Addison continue to talk with the sheriff. “Hello?”

“Agent Bourne? It’s Melanie Golden.”

“Everything okay?”

“Did you mean it when you said you had an open mind?”

* * *

“I hadn’t checked it until today,” Melanie tells the three hunters sitting on her couch. She was clutching her cordless phone. A mixture of fear and confusion were on her face. “I mean, the only person who called my landline was my grandma.”

“It’s okay. Go on,” Sam reassures.

“Look, I wouldn’t put any stock in it. I mean, she was always calling me with some crazy dream she was sure was a sign, that kind of thing. But, uh, is it true Nikolai had a — a real vision of his death?”

“It’s what we were told,” Addison answers.

“Well, so did she. The day she died.”

“What’d she say,” Dean asks.

Melanie places the phone of the coffee table. “Well, you can listen to it if you want. She said she was in a seance, um, then the lights go, it’s freezing.”

“Wait, she said that,” Sam questions. “That the room got cold?”

“Yeah. Why, is that important?” The hunters exchange a look. “What? What is it?”

“A ghost,” Dean answers. “The real deal.”

“Come on.” Melanie stares at the looks on the hunters’ faces. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah, see, there’s, uh, fake woo woo crap and there’s real woo woo crap.”

“Well, yeah, but ghosts?”

“Well, trust me, there’s a lot weirder out there than that.”

“So, um, the X-Files is real or you just stopped talking like an FBI agent.”

“Well, um, we’re not FBI agents,” Sam replies.

“I need a drink.”

“I support that,” Dean agrees, ignoring the looks from Sam and Addison.

Addison clears her throat and stands up. “Thanks for letting us know, and, uh, call us if anything else weird happens.”

“If this is a spirit, it ain’t your average spook tied to a house,” Dean says as they walk out of Melanie’s house. “I mean, this thing is boogying all over town.”

“I’m not surprised,” Sam says. “How many crystal balls do you figure are in Lily Dale?”

“Somewhere between fifty and, uh, all of them,” Dean answers.

“Well, I mean, quartz can act as an antenna for spirits, right? That’s why mediums started using crystal balls in the first place.”

“That means that every storefront in town’s got a ghost satellite dish.”

“Exactly. And this place is packed with people summoning spirits.”

“Yeah, but most of these guys can’t even call a taxi.”

“But all it takes is one,” Addison reminds.

“That’s gonna be like looking for a needle in a stack of fake needles, Ads.”

“And there’s the possibility that some of the psychics could be real psychics, which makes it more complicated.”

“I hate this town. All right, so, what, start hitting up the Miss Cleos?”

“We should split up and canvass. It’s faster,” Sam says, then walks away.

“Right. Course you were,” Dean mutters as he and Addison climb into the pos car.

“Give him some time. He’ll come around. We should get some burritos before we start canvassing,” Addison says and Dean stares at her. “What?”

“You okay?”

Addison rolls her eyes. “I’m fine, Dean.”

* * *

They only had to canvass for a couple of hours before a lead appeared. Melanie had called and told them that her friend had apparently had a real vision. “It’s okay. Like I said on the phone, he can help,” Melanie says as her friend stares in disbelief at Dean and Addison.

“Phony lawman, huh,” the friend says, letting them into her house.

“Yeah, because nobody can relate to phony around here,” Dean comments and Addison shoots him an unamused look.

“Well, if you can do something, I don’t care if you call yourself the pope.”

“Can you tell us what exactly happened,” Addison asks.

“What happened is I had a fucking vision. Something is coming for me.”

“What’s coming,” Dean asks. “Did you get a look?”

“No. But I sure felt it when it started breaking my bones. I don’t wanna die.”

“Okay. We’ll figure it out. Vision happened in here?”

“Yeah, by the cash box.”

Dean walks over to the desk that the box was sitting on and looks around. He stares at a mask hanging on the wall. “There any chance good looking was watching?”

Melanie’s friend takes them to her computer and brings up the security footage. They watch as the friend finishes up with a customer and puts the money in the cash box. Then the screen goes static. “What was that?”

Addison backs the video up frame by frame. The friend gasps upon seeing the ghost standing in the background. “What the hell,” Melanie asks. They video plays in slow motion and they watch as the ghost walks up behind the friend. “Was that…I mean an actual…”

“Bona fide, yeah,” Dean answers, staring at the screen where the ghost was holding the friend’s head. “Well, no offense, but nobody’s having psychic visions around here. This, uh, spirit, whoever she is, is giving them out.”

“And then killing people,” the friend asks.

“Until we stop her. Good news is you said you saw a clock, and it read 2 a.m. So that gives us a little time. Now, does anybody recognize this chick?”

“You know, I swear I’ve seen her,” Melanie says. “Like in a painting or something.”

“A painting? Uh…”

“No, not a painting. In one of those old photos in the museum.”

* * *

“Lily Dale has long been a haven for the psychically gifted. Tortured elsewhere, they’re embraced here. My own family has a modest natural gift. We also celebrate our long and colorful history of embellishers,” a museum guide says, walking into the room the trio were in with a large tour group. The guide motions to a display box. “Ectoplasm illusion, circa 1890.” Sam shakes his head in disbelief and moves into the next room. Dean and Addison follow him up stairs, to where a wall of photos was hanging. The brothers exchange a look when they notice one of the photos was of the Mystifying Campbell brothers. “Never ended well for the siblings.”

“Why’s that,” Dean asks, turning to the tour guide.

“Hmm, the strain of working together. Or maybe just being around each other all their lives.” The guide motions to the photo the brothers had been looking at. “Those two were the exception, actually, the Campbells, got along famously. Of course, that was just a stage name. They weren’t actually brothers.” Dean stares at the tour guide. “That was a cover for their, uh, alternative lifestyle. Any other questions I can answer?”

“Uh, yeah,” Addison replies. She motions to a photo of two women. “Who are they?”

“Oh, the Fox sisters. Among the founders of Lily Dale. Kate Fox. Quite troubled apparently, but mesmerizing on stage. She’s said to be able to levitate objects and foretell one’s death.”

“That’s her,” Dean mutters.

“Her older sister, Margaret, perhaps not a natural psychic.”

“So full of crap.”

“Yes, well. She didn’t have her sister’s charisma but she looked after Kate. Sometimes one’s true gift is taking care of others.”

“So what happened to them?”

“Lived here all their lives.”

“Lived here and died here,” Sam asks.

“Yes, well, buried in the cemetery.”

“Great. That was, uh, very educational. Thank you. Dean. Ads.”

Addison shoots the guide a smile, then follows after Sam. Dean starts to go with her, but the tour guide grabs his arm. “I’m sorry, I don’t normally do this during business hours but do you know an Eleanor or an Ellen?” Dean stares. “She seems quite concerned about you. She wants to tell you, pardon me, if you don’t tell someone how bad it really is, she’ll kick your ass from beyond. You have to trust someone again eventually.” The tour guide takes a step back. “Heh, anyway, don’t forget to visit the gift shop.”

Dean stands there for a moment, then goes after Sam and Addison. “All right, hit up the graveyard, dig up Kate,” Sam suggests when he reaches them outside.

“Wait a second,” Dean says.

“All signs point to her, Dean.”

“No, just hold on a damn minute.” Sam turns and looks at his older brother. “Enough with just the facts.”

“We agreed—”

“No, we agreed to work the case, we didn’t agree for you to be a dick the whole time.”

“What?”

“You’re pissed, okay? And you got a right.”

“Damn straight.”

“But enough’s enough.”

“Says who? Look, I’ll work this damn case, but you lied to me and you killed my friend.”

“No, I put down a monster who killed four people. And if you didn’t know her you’d have done the same thing.”

“I did know her, Dean.”

“Which is why you couldn’t do it. Look, I get it. There are certain people in this world, no matter how dangerous they are you just can’t.”

“Don’t pull that card, that’s bullshit. Look, if I’ve learned one thing it’s that if something feels wrong, it probably is.”

“Usually, yeah. But killing Amy was not wrong. You couldn’t do it, so I did. That’s what family does. The dirty work. And I would’ve told you. Eventually. Once I knew that this whole waving-a-gun-at-Satan thing was a one time show. I think it’s reasonable to wanna know that you’re off the fucking high dive, Sam. You almost got us both killed. You can be pissed all you want. But quit being a bitch.” Dean storms past his stunned brother. Addison pats Sam’s arm, before going after him.

* * *

Addison sighs as she sits down on the couch in the living room of Melanie’s house. The boys had salted and burned Kate Fox’s bones while she had hung out in the car. But apparently that didn’t stop the ghost from killing Melanie’s friend. “Should’ve known that whole good-sis/bad-sis story was just showmanship shit,” Dean says. “Oh and turns out that Kate was just trying to warn people about her evil bitch sister. And we burned her bones. So that’s gone.”

“Dean,” Sam starts.

“What,” Dean snaps.  

“All we can do now is go stop her.”

“Not good enough. By a mile.”

“I know. Believe me.” Footsteps come down a set of stairs. “But can we talk about this later?”

“Hey,” Dean greets as Melanie enter the living room. “How you holding up?”

“Been better,” Melanie tearfully answers.

“Listen, if you need for us to leave—”

“I need you guys to leave.”

“Okay, we will,” Sam replies. “It’s just that…Look, Margaret is still out there.”

Melanie takes a deep breath and wipes her face. “What do you guys need to know?”

“Is there anything that stood out?”

“Well, um, she barely gave a crap about me. I mean, I was just in the way. She was all about getting Camille.”

“Okay, good. That’s something,” Dean says.

“One other thing. Um, she enjoyed it. She was smiling.”

* * *

“My back is killing me,” Addison states from where she was stretched out on the ground while Dean and Sam dug up the grave of Margaret Fox.

“I feel naked doing this in daylight,” Dean tells them as he digs.

“Let’s just hurry up,” Sam replies.

A couple hours later, the boys have the grave dug. Sam slams his shovel down on the coffin, breaking it open. “All right, Mags, my lighter’s juiced this time.” Sam pulls off the coffin’s lid only to reveal that it’s empty. “Geraldoed.”

“Not good,” Sam says, after the boys fill up the grave.

“Never good.”

“Dean, if someone knew enough to take Margaret’s bones, they’re not kidding around. That’s serious binding magic.”

Dean scoffs. “Great. Psychic ghost bitch on a leash.”

“We gotta find those bones.”

“We gotta find the bonehead.”

“So, what, we’ll call Bobby, see what it takes to harness the power of a ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Addison exclaims, as they reach the car. “I just remembered something.” She pulls out a flyer and shows the boys. Pictures of three of the victims were on the flyer or the local festival. “They were all headliners.”

* * *

Melanie looks up at the hunters. She held a copy of the flyer in her hands. “You know, after Nikolai they asked Camille to take his spot. I mean, she’s so popular. Was so popular,” she explains.

“Okay, uh, all these people, would you – would you say that they’re the, uh, top dogs in town,” Dean asks.

“Well, it’s not really like that.”

“But they were all doing well. I mean, your grandma?”

“She wrote a few books. And Imelda was on the Nate Berkus show twice. So, yeah, I guess they were doing pretty well. You think that’s why she went after them?”

“Who would you think be next to be at the festival,” Addison asks.

“I – I don’t know.”

“Your grandma was headlining at the big hall,” Dean points out. “So who do you think they would ask to fill in?”

“Probably…” Melanie trails off in realization. “Me.”

* * *

Addison jumps when she walks out of the bathroom and finds Dean waiting for her. He had been more protective ever since the leviathans had managed to kidnap her and she knew he was worried about her ever since Patrick’s death. And while she found it endearing, there were times that she found it a bit much. He hands her a shotgun. “Stay in the salt circle. There’s no telling what this crazy bitch will do,” he tells her.

“You do know that I know how to do my job,” Addison asks, as they make their way into the living room.

“Yeah, I know that. But you’re staying where I can see you so you know that I’m me and I know that you’re you. Don’t worry about Melanie. I’ll cover her. You just worry about you.” Dean’s phone rings and he pulls it out to see Sam’s name on the screen. “Yeah?”

“Dean. It’s the pawn shop guy,” Sam tells him.

“How do you know?”

“He goose chased me to a – a fucking pregnant yoga class.”

“All right, well, figure out where he put her bones.”

Melanie gasps and the hunters to see Margaret right outside the window. “I will,” Sam replies.

“Fast, Sam.”

Dean snaps his phone shut and shoves it in his pocket. Addison tightens her grip on the shotgun and looks around the room. “Is she gone,” Melanie asks, seeing that the ghost was no longer in the window.

“I doubt it.”

“But she can’t get past the line, right?”

“Right.”

Suddenly, the windows explode. Dean does his best to cover both Addison and Melanie. They stand up and Addison nods. The wind blows, breaking salt circle.

“Damn it. I hate when they do that,” Dean mutters. He turns to Melanie. “Get the salt, go.”

Melanie moves to grab the salt can as the ghost appears behind Dean. “Dean,” Addison snaps and he ducks just before she shoots Margaret.

“Is she gone,” Melanie asks. Margaret reappears and sends Dean and Addison back into a wall. Melanie raises a tire iron and backs up as Margaret stalks towards her.

Dean jumps up and runs into the kitchen. He shoots Margaret and she vanishes. “Ads,” he shouts.

“I’m good,” Addison answers, moving into the kitchen from the hallway. Melanie grabs a box of salt and quickly pours a line in the doorways.

Margaret appears in front of Dean. “Get behind me,” he orders. He glares at the ghost in front of him. “That’s as far as you go bitch.”

The house starts shaking and the floor boards break. “Aw,” Margaret mocks. “Sorry, handsome.”

Addison raises her shotgun and shoots Margaret. Addison grabs Melanie and moves her towards the back of the kitchen. Margaret reappears and Dean shoots her this time. Margaret appears once again and Dean goes to shoot her only to find that he’s out of shells. He grabs an iron chain off the table and swings it through the ghost. He glances back at the women, then he’s flying out of the kitchen. Margaret walks towards them and Addison tries shooting the ghost, but realizes that her gun is empty. She looks up and Margaret is right in front of them. Addison tosses her shotgun down and grabs the tire iron from Melanie. She swings it through the ghost. Margaret is front of them once more. Addison raises the tire iron. She frowns as the ghost backs up before going up in flames. Addison lets out a relived breath. She looks at Dean, who was lying in the hallway.

* * *

Dean rolls over, expecting to find Addison curled up next to him, but her spot was empty. He sits up and looks over at Sam’s bed. His younger brother was stretched out on the bed. They had left Lily Dale that morning. He and Sam had been able to patch things up as best they could. He looks towards the bathroom and finds it dark. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters, pulling on his boots and jacket.

Dean opens the motel door and finds Addison sitting on the ground. She glances at him. “I needed some fresh air,” she tells him, wiping away her tears. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her against his chest.


	9. Season Seven, Time for a Wedding

Addison runs a hand through her hair as she steps out of the bathroom. She straightens out the figure hugging red dress she wore. She moves through the crowded club and finds an empty spot. She smiles as the bartender walks over and places a glass of whiskey in front of her. “The bouncer got rid ‘em,” the bartender tells her, leaning against the counter.

“Thank you,” Addison replies, taking a sip of the whiskey. “Damn. Is that what I think it is?”

“Hey, only the best for my favorite hunter. So, where are the brother Winchesters?”

“Dean is sticking to his Vegas tradition. And Sam went on a hike in the desert.”

He leans forward. “So, that means when I get off you’ll be free?”

Addison smiles. “Maybe.”

He pulls her into a kiss. “You better. I want to see what that fucking suite looks like.”

Addison laughs. “I think I can manage that, Seth.” He smirks at her and walks away. Her phone buzzes and she takes it out to find a text from Sam. She sighs seeing an address on the screen and quickly finishes her drink.

Addison finds herself at the location. The lobby of the building was empty, causing her to make her way down a hallway. “Ads!” She stops and turns to see Dean walking towards her. “What are you doing here?”

“Sam sent me a text,” Addison explains. “He asked me to meet him here. Think there might be a case?”

Dean shrugs. “No idea,” he replies. The light above them flickers causing Dean to pull out his gun. They continue down the hallway.

Dean’s about to open the doors at the end when they suddenly open to reveal Sam. He was in a suit with a pink flower pinned to his jacket. “Dean. Addison,” Sam greets. “It’s okay. You won’t need that. Come on.”

Dean puts his gun up as Sam leads him and Addison into the room. Chairs were lined up in rows on either sides with a man and woman sitting near an old piano at the front of the room. “I thought you were out, uh, becoming one with the land or some crap.”

“You got to – come here.” Addison watches as Sam moves Dean onto a piece of tape on the floor. She looks around the room. Fake flowers were around the room. “All right. Now…” She turns back to see Sam pin a pink flower to Dean’s jacket.

“What is this?”

“Uh, apparently, uh, pink is for loyalty.”

“Sam, are we looking for a siren or something,” Addison asks, confused. She looks to Dean for answers, but he shrugs.

“No. Nothing like that.” Sam moves Addison to stand next Dean and he hands her a small bouquet of pink flowers. “All right, um…so, a little sudden. But life is short, so I’ll keep this shorter.” Sam places a hand on each of their shoulders. “I’m in love. And I’m getting married.” Sam’s confession is greeted by to blank stares. “Say something, like, uh, like ‘congratulations’ for example.”

“What,” Dean finally says.

The bridal march starts to play and they turn to see a woman in a wedding dress and veil enter the room. She stops in front of them and Sam lifts the veil. “Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me,” Addison mutters.

Becky Rosen grins at them. “Dean, Addison. I’m so glad you’re here.”

After the ceremony, which Dean and Addison remained silent through, mostly out of shock, the four of them are standing in the chapel. Addison turns to Dean, who turns to Sam. “Shouldn’t she ask for my permission or something,” Dean states.

“You want her to ask for my hand,” Sam amusedly replies.

“I think the more appropriate question is how did this happen,” Addison counters.

“Short version? We – we – we met. We ate and – and talked and fell in love. And, you know, here we are.”

“You fell in love with Becky in four days,” Addison disbelievingly asks, glancing at Becky.

“Yeah, I, uh, I guess we’re all caught up. That’s – okay.” Dean shakes his head. “You know what? Ignoring everything, have you forgotten the average life-span of your hookups? And Ads doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, but –” Sam starts.

“But if anyone knows that, it’s me. I mean, I read every book. So, open eyes, you know? Open eyes,” Becky says.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Dean murmurs.

“You and me both,” Addison agrees.

“Guys, look, it’s simple. If – if something good’s happening, I-I got to jump on it – now, today, uh, period,” Sam explains.

“Okay, Dead Poets Society. Fine,” Dean replies. “No offense. Did you make sure she’s even really—”

“Salt, holy water, everything. See?” Becky holds up her right arm to show them a small cut. “Not a monster. Just the right girl for your brother.” Addison tensely smiles at her. “That’s it.”

A man carrying a folder walks up to them. “The bill.”

Becky grabs the folder. “I got it. You three do your thing.”

Dean waits until Becky and the man have gone before rounding on Sam. “Really?! Superfan ninety-nine?!”

“Dean, look,” Sam begins. “Honest to God, I-I had the exact same opinion of her as you do. But when we got past the whole book thing, I found out that she’s great and I was the dick.”

Addison nods. “Okay, while we’re on the subject of the books, Becky randomly decides to pop up during our annual Vegas week?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, um, Ads, what are you trying to say?”

“Maybe she knew about our Vegas vacation week because Chuck wrote about it.”

“Addison, you’re paranoid.”

“And you’re in love,” Dean exclaims. “It’s been four days, man!”

“You know what? Um, how about this? Becky and I are gonna go up to her place in Delaware. Um, why don’t you try and wrap your domes around this, get a little supportive, then give us a call?” Sam pats their shoulders, then walks over to Becky.

Addison looks at Dean. “You wanna get super drunk with me to forget this ever happened?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Dean replies, watching her pull out of cell. He drapes an arm around her shoulders. “Tell Seth to get the good shit.”

* * *

Dean glances at Addison as they walk down the hallway to Becky’s apartment. They had followed the newlyweds all the way from Vegas and had stumbled onto a possible hunt in Pine Creek. They reach the apartment and Addison rings the doorbell. She hated this whole thing, but she was willing to put on the happy face for Sam. The door opens and she smiles at Sam. Dean hands Sam a big box with a red bow on it. “This is us being supportive. Congratulations to you and the misuses,” Dean tells him.

“Thanks,” Sam replies.

“It’s a waffle iron,” Dean awkwardly explains. “Nonstick. You just, uh…Actually, I don’t know how to use it. Are we good?” Sam shrugs and motions for them enter the apartment. “Good, cause we’re sniffing a case in this town. The score is…guy wins Powerball, gets squished by a truck.”

“Then another guy goes from the bench to the Majors, but his face ends up a catcher’s mitt a week later,” Addison continues.

“Our first thought was crossroads demons, but there’s that ten year time frame on collecting souls,” Becky says from another room. Addison and Dean exchange a look, then follow Sam into the bedroom. Becky was standing in front of board filled with research. “Then there’s cursed object, like in ‘Bad Day at Black Rock,’ but we haven’t been able to connect the vics yet.”

Dean looks between Sam and Becky. “You’re working this case…together?”

“Yeah. I know. Right,” Sam answers. “I mean, I guess all those Chuck Shurley books paid off.”

“All right, listen, Cookie, I don’t know what kind of mojo you’re working but, believe me, I will find out,” Dean coldly tells Becky.

“Dean, that’s my wife you’re talking to.”

“You’re not even acting like yourself, Sam!”

“How am I not?”

“You married Becky Rosen!”

“What are you saying,” Becky questions. “I’m a witch? Or maybe I’m a siren. Ever occur to you we’re just – I don’t know – happy?”

“Come on, Sam,” Dean shouts. “Guy wins the lotto, guy hits the bigs. All right, obviously, uh, people’s dreams are coming true in this town. Don’t you think this is a little bit of a coincidence?”

“You know what, Dean,” Sam begins. “What Becky and I have is real. And if you can’t accept that, that’s your problem, not ours.”

“Or maybe she’s part of it. Because for whatever reason, you’re her dream. If you really do care about her, I’d be worried. Because people who do get their little fantasies or whatever seem to end up dead pretty quick.”

“You know, I went after her, Dean. Maybe that’s what’s bugging you two – that I’m moving on with my life. I mean, you took care of me and that’s great. But I don’t need you, either of you, anymore.”

Addison sighs as Dean walks out of the apartment. “We just…we just want to make sure that you’re okay,” she softly tells him, blinking back the tears. “And that this is something that you really want–“

“Ads, really,” Sam interrupts, with a knowing look.

Addison rolls her eyes. “Fine. The tears may have been faked but I meant what I said.”

“I know you gave Becky pictures of me when we were at the Supernatural Convention, Ads.”

Addison stares at Becky betrayed, then she narrows her gaze. “You do not want me on your bad side,” she threatens and Sam rolls his eyes. “And for the record, Sam, you had pants on in those pictures.”

She turn and walks out of the apartment. Dean was already sitting in the old Mustang he had stolen a few weeks earlier. “Well,” Dean asks.

“He knew I was faking. And we’re officially both bad cops,” Addison tells him. Dean runs a hand over his face and starts the car.

* * *

“I feel like we’re going on a blind date,” Addison complains as they walk through the restaurant to meet the hunter Bobby had sent to help them. Dean shoots her an unamused look. “What? You’re the one who wanted help. I think we can do this one on our own. We don’t need another person.”

Dean stops and turns to her. “Ads—”

“I know, Dean, okay. The sooner we finish this job, the sooner we can make Sam realize the mistake he made. Let’s just get this over with.”

They continue through the restaurant. Dean starts towards a table where a bald bearded man was sitting, but stops when a woman sits down. “Hey. You Dean and Addison?” They turn around to see a bearded man sitting at a table. He was drinking a milkshake. He wore a plaid shirt under a blue hoodie. “I thought you’d be taller.”

Dean shoots Addison a look and she shrugs in response. He clears his throat as they sit down across from him. “I assume Bobby filled you in on the road.”

“He told me three things. One, he’s tangling with a major league nest up in Oregon territory. Numero dos, he said you’d be all, uh, surly and premenstrual working with me. And three…” He trails off as he sets a paper bag on the table. “My condolences.”

Addison opens the paper bag and sees a casserole dish sitting inside. “Thank you,” she says, forcing a smile. “But this wasn’t necessary.”

Garth grabs her hand. “Least I could do. Patrick got me out of a few scrapes.”

Dean clears his throat as he unfolds the newspaper. He sets it on the table and slides it forward. “I think I found a case. Check the headline.”

“First things first,” Garth says, picking up the paper. He flips through until he finds a page and reads it. Dean looks at Addison with disbelief when Garth laughs and she shrugs in response. “Oh, Marmaduke, you crazy.”

* * *

“Are you trying to humiliate me,” a woman coldly says to a secretary as Dean, Addison, and Garth sitting outside the CEO’s office for Mutual Freedom Insurance. “It’s Marsha with an S-H-A, not a C-I-A.”

Dean and Addison exchange a look when Sam and Becky walk out of the CEO’s office. Garth leans close to Dean. “Hey, is that your—”

“Yes,” Dean interrupts.

“Awkward.”

Dean stands up and walks over to Sam. “Hi.” Becky glares at him, then walks away “Okay. So?”

“So, uh, no point going in, guy’s clean,” Sam answers.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Positive. Becky grilled him like a pro. She’s a real natural.” Dean nods. “What’s with the scrawny guy?”

Dean glances at Garth. “Temp.” Sam nods and goes after Becky.

The secretary clears her throat. “You can go in now.”

The hunters make their way into the CEO’s office. They shake hands with the man then Addison and Garth sit down in the leather chairs in front of the desk. “Throw a rock, hit a reporter these day, eh?”

Dean chuckles. He was standing behind Addison. “Well, your story’s a big deal over at the Actuarial Insider.”

“Go ahead, shoot.”

“What was the process you went through to get the position,” Addison asks.

“Board came to me, asked, said yes.”

Dean frowns. “Just out of the blue?”

“Pretty much.”

“Huh. And any idea how the board landed on you over your supervisors?”

“Um, they didn’t say.”

Addison shifts. “What exactly about your qualifications made the board excited to put you in the CEO position?”

“Say, what’s with the third degree,” the CEO asks, looking between the three of them.

“Oh, uh, no offense. We were just wondering if you got here by nefarious means,” Garth says.

“Whoa, Garth,” Dean says, looking at the hunter.

“Oh. Heh, uh…I – I didn’t mean, of course, uh, corporate backstabbing. I’m sorry. I meant more like, uh, you know, black magic or hoodoo.”

Dean laughs and places a hand on Garth’s shoulder. “He jokes. He’s, uh, a jokester. Let’s, uh, rewind. Why don’t, uh, you tell us what it felt like when your big dream came true?”

The CEO pauses. “Look, on the record, it’s great.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “And off the record?”

“It’s not my big dream.”

“Wait, you didn’t want this job,” Garth questions.

“Hell, no. I’m a sales guy. I was good in sales.”

“Your secretary’s an idiot. I’ll be at the printers this afternoon,” the woman who had been yelling at the secretary says.

“All right, dear. See you at dinner.”

“Just have the idiot make a reservation. Here’s a tip: remind her she works for the CEO. One more screwup, she’s fired.”

They watch as the woman walks out of the office. “Your, uh, wife seems pretty stoked on the promotion, don’t she,” Garth says.

“Honestly, I’ve never seen her happier. I have no idea how I’m gonna tell her I have to resign. The news is just gonna—”

“Kill her,” Garth interrupts. Dean and Addison exchange a look.

Addison clears her throat. “Well, thank you, Mr. Burrows.”

The hunters make their way out of his way. They quickly catch up with Mrs. Burrows. “Mrs. Burrows,” Dean says.

Mrs. Burrows looks at them with distain. “Can I help you?”

“Yes. We’re, uh, doing a story on your husband’s promotion. We wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Mrs. Burrows smiles. “I’m sorry. I can’t today. If you schedule it with his girl—”

Mrs. Burrows starts to leave, but Dean grabs her arm. “I’m trying to save you from a really bad accident.“

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. No, I’m pointing out a pattern. Why do people keep thinking I’m threatening them?”

“Because it sounded exactly like a threat, dude,” Garth comments.

Dean stares at him for a second, then turns back to Mrs. Burrows. “Look, for you own good, what did you do to get him promoted?”

Mrs. Burrows scoffs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now leave me alone or do I need to call security?”

Addison watches as Mrs. Burrows walks off. “Okay, plan B.”

They follow Mrs. Burrows through the building, but hang back upon reaching the lobby. Hearing a snapping noise, Dean looks up to see a heavy light falling towards the ground. He runs and tackles Mrs. Burrows just seconds before the light hits the ground and shatters. “You okay,” Dean asks.

“How did you know,” Mrs. Burrows asks in disbelief.

“Because you’re not the first. Come on.”

Dean helps Mrs. Burrows up as Addison and Garth walk over. “You wanna tell us what’s up here,” Garth asks.

“I was having lunch with friends, this guy heard me bitching, next thing I know he’s making me an offer.”

“An offer,” Addison asks.

“Craig’s job for my soul. I know, hilarious. I mean, what have I got to lose?”

“Well, there’s your soul,” Garth replies. He looks at Dean and Addison. “What kind of demon deal is this? Time line’s whack.”

Mrs. Burrows stares at Garth. “What are you talking about? Demon?”

“Let me back up here. You made a deal with a demon in exchange for your everlasting. Except those are ten year contracts. Why is the bill coming due so fast?”

“I don’t know, but I got a bad feeling about who’s next. We gotta find Sam,” Dean says.

“All right, all right. Here’s the plan. I drop this lady at my cousin’s. He’ll stop anything trying to get her. We, uh, find Sam, hopefully fix this, everybody’s home in time for America’s Got Talent. Now, you. You’ll be living with a triracial paraplegic sniper until this all blows over, okay?”

* * *

“I like Garth,” Addison says, shoving her reporters suit in her duffle bag. Her and Dean had stopped at their motel to change and to eat the casserole Garth had given them.

“You’re only saying that because he gave you food,” Dean replies, not looking up from Addison’s Macbook.

“I don’t remember you complaining when you were eating the casseroles my dad’s friends brought over,” Addison argues. She smiles when Dean shoots her an unamused look. “Look, you’re the one who asked Bobby to come help and when he couldn’t come, he sent Garth. Which I still don’t understand why you wanted extra help anyway.”

“Hey, I just thought it might be best to have extra help.”

Addison stares at him. “Why? Because my dad died? I’m fine.” He remains silent. “I am.”

“Never said you weren’t, Ads.”

She shakes her head. “That’s complete and utter bullshit,” she says, disappearing into the bathroom. Dean runs a hand over his face.

* * *

Dean slowly opens the door to Becky’s apartment. They had met up with Garth, after he had dropped off Mrs. Burrows with his cousin. Garth pushes past Dean and blazes into the apartment. Dean shoots Addison an incredulous look and she can’t help but shrug in response. He puts his gun up as he and Addison enter the apartment while Garth continues looking around. He stares at the wedding picture of Becky and Sam. “I feel slightly creeped out by that,” Addison comments, staring at the photo.

“You and me both,” Dean mutters, looking through a stack of mail. He throws the letters back on the table. “Anything?”

“Uh, she’s got eleven twitter-ers,” Garth replies as Dean and Addison join him in Becky’s bedroom. Her computer was on. “Last post. Uh, ‘going on romantic trip with hubster.’ Three exclamation points. Guess she got excited.”

Addison grabs a picture off the desk. It was a picture a young Becky standing in front of a cabin. “Isn’t this a nice romantic cabin?”

“Oh, hell, no. But I got this thing about fish. Dead Eyes.” Dean grabs the picture from Addison and takes it out of the frame. A location was written on the back.

* * *

Addison walks over to where Guy was trapped in the devil’s trap. She holds up blue bottle of vodka. “Blueberry vodka, responsible for helping populate the planet,” she greets, smirking. Sam had called Dean earlier that day and they had picked him up, along with Becky, who had told them everything.

“You see that, Sam,” Becky excitedly says. “I did it just like we said! I am awesome! I…” She trails off at the glare from Sam and moves away from the hunters. “I’ll be over here.”

“Dean Winchester. This is really thrilling. Hey, can I have your autograph,” Guy sarcastically asks.

Dean pulls out the demon killing knife. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll, uh, carve it into your spleen. So, how you running your little scam?”

“Well, how do you mean, Dean?”

“Signing ten year deals, snuffing ‘em that week,” Sam tells Guy.

“Well, I would never. No. Rules of the road — can’t lay a hair on any of my clients.”

“Bullshit,” Addison says, crossing her arms over her chest. Dean tightens his grip on the knife. “How are you cheating?”

“I’m not a cheater. I’m an innovator. It’s called a loophole, you moron. Yes, when a person bargains away his soul, he gets a decade, technically. But accidents happen.”

Sam scoffs. “So, you’re arranging accidents and collecting early?”

“Oh, please. White gloves. I don’t get my hands dirty. That’s why it’s important to have a capable intern.” Another demon appears in the room, sending the hunters flying into walls. Addison stands up and moves towards where the knife had landed. Guy turns to his demon intern. “What time did I ask you be here!” The demon breaks the devil’s trap. Addison feels something pressing down on her throat and she gasps for air. A hand wraps around her arm and she looks to see Guy. “Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Holy water hits Guy and causes him to hiss before turning. “Exorcizamus te omnis—” Guy waves his hand and Dean slams back into the wall.

“Becky,” Sam shouts, seeing the demon intern heading towards him. “Run!” The demon waves his head and Sam gasps for air. It suddenly stops and the demon flashes orange, then falls to the ground to show a knife sticking out of his back.

Sam quickly grabs the knife and tosses it to Dean as he moves behind Addison. He presses the knife against Guy’s neck. “Let her go,” Dean angrily says. Guy lets go of Addison and she quickly steps to the side. “How many deals you got cooking in this town, Madoff?”

“Fifteen,” Guy confesses.

“Yeah, well, call them off or I’ll cut my own loophole in your throat.”

Guy’s gaze widens. “Oh, crap.”

“Yeah, you said it. You’re in a world—”

“Hello, boys, love.”

Dean and Addison both turn to see Crowley standing behind them. “Oh, crap.” Dean keeps the knife on Guy’s throat as he moves behind the demon.

“Sam, mazel tov,” Crowley greets as Sam stands protectively behind Addison. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You’re Crowley,” Becky excitedly says, reminding them she was there.

“And you’re — well, I’m sure you have a wonderful personality, dear,” Crowley says, stepping forward.

“Ah, another step and I’ll Colombian necktie your little friend here,” Dean coldly says.

“Please, don’t let him get off that easy.”

Guy fearfully stares at his boss. “Sir, I don’t think that you—”

“I know exactly what you’ve been doing. A little birdie named Jackson sold you out, e-mailed all the juicy deets to my suggestion box.” Crowley looks at the dead demon. “I assume that’s my whistle-blower? Shame. Had a future. Unfortunately, you don’t.”

“I was just—”

“I only have one rule — make a deal, keep it.”

“Well, technically, I didn’t—”

“There’s a reason we don’t call our chits in early — consumer confidence. This isn’t Wall Street! This is Hell! We have a little something called integrity. This gets out, who’ll deal with us? Nobody! Then where are we?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s right. You don’t. Because you’re a stupid, shortsighted little prat. Now, hand the jackass over. I’ll cancel every deal he’s made.”

Dean cautiously stares at Crowley. “What are you gonna do with him?”

“Make an example of him. Fair trade, right? We all go our separate ways. No harm done.”

“What,” Sam disbelievingly asks. “Out of the goodness of your heart?”

“Years of demons nipping at your heels, haven’t seen one for months. Wonder why?”

“We’ve been a little busy,” Dean answers.

“Hunting Leviathan — yes, I know. That’s why I told my lads to stay clear of you meatheads.”

Addison frowns. “What do you know about the Leviathans?”

“Too much. You met that Dick yet? Smuggest tub of goo since Mussolini. I hate the bastards. Squash ‘em all, please. I’ll stay clear.”

“Rip up the contracts first,” Dean demands.

Crowley snaps his fingers. “Done…and done. Your turn.” Dean glances at Addison and Sam, then shoves Guy forward. Crowley grabs him. “Pleasure, gentlemen, ladies.”

Then the demons are gone. A groan causes the group to turn to see Garth standing up. “What’d I miss,” he asks, looking around.

* * *

Sam signs his name on the annulment papers and slides them across the table to Becky. Dean, Addison, and Garth were standing in the living room. “It — it wasn’t all bad, right,” Becky asks and Sam glares at her.

A heartbroken look crosses the woman’s face. “Okay, you did save my life and for that, thanks,” Sam tells her.

“So I’ll see you again?”

“Yeah, probably not.” Becky signs the papers, then pushes them back to Sam. He sighs. “Becky, look, you’re not a loser, okay? You’re a good person and you — you’ve got a lot of…energy. So you know what? Just do your thing, whatever that is, and the right guy will find you.”

Addison exchanges a look with Dean when Garth smiles at Becky and he starts to flatten his hair. Garth turns to them. “No,” the hunters says.

Sam nods at Becky and the hunters walk out of her apartment. “Well, buddy, I gotta say, man, you, uh, don’t suck,” Dean tells Garth as they walk out of the apartment building.

“Thank you,” Garth replies. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Well…”

Garth rushes forward and hugs Dean. “Yeah. Heh. All right, that’s…” Dean awkwardly pats his back. “Thank you.”

Garth pulls back and then hugs Addison. She smiles. “Take care,” she says, with a smile.

With a final wave, Garth climbs into his car and drives off. “Aw, you made a friend,” Sam amusedly says.

Dean shakes his head. “Na uh.”

“Look, man, uh, when I was all dosed up, I said some shit.”

“Oh, you mean, she — she wasn’t your soul mate?”

“Shut up. I mean, I do need you guys watching my back. Obviously.”

“Yeah. When crazy groupies attack.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You know, I gotta say, man, for a whack job, you really pulled it together.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me.” Addison snorts in amusement and the boys laugh. “Look, don’t be too impressed, man. I’m still a Denver scramble up here. I just know my way around the plate now.”

“I’m just saying, it’s stupid to think that you need me around all the time. You’re a grown up.”

“Right.”

“You’re a hike-in-the-desert, hippie douche grownup.”

“Dude, I was camping. You camp.”

“Yeah, whatever, hippie.”

“You know what, through? Seriously? It might be nice.”

“What?”

“I mean, you’ve basically been looking out for me your whole life. Now you finally get to take care of yourself. Both of you do,” Sam says, looking between them. A silence settles over the trio as they climb into the car.


	10. How To Win Friends and Influence Monsters

Addison was miserable and it showed as she followed Bobby into the abandoned house. She drops her bag and pillows on the couch. She spreads a sleeping bag and blankets out, then sits down. “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Dean comments.

“Yeah. Well, Motel 6 just ain’t leaving the light on anymore,” Sam replies, sitting down at the table.

“Well, I’m taking a page out of Frank Devereaux’s Bible on this. Everybody’s out to get you - paranoia is just plain common sense,” Bobby tells him.

“Its been weeks,” Addison tiredly says. “I’m tired of squatting and the cold showers and cold food. This sucks.”

Bobby sighs. “How many big mouths are out there, running card traces, like Chet or hunting us down God knows what ways? No, now’s not the time to be laying our bed rolls out on the grid. Not if we can help it.”

Suddenly, the lights go off. Sam turns on the lamp that he had set on the table. “That’s just great,” Dean complains. “This is stupid. I mean, our quality of life is crap. We got Purgatory’s least wanted everywhere and we’re on our third The World’s Screwed issue in, what, four years? We’ve steered the bus away from the cliff twice already.”

“Someone’s got to do it,” Sam points out.

“What if the bus wants to go over the cliff?”

“You think the world wants to end?”

Dean shrugs. “I think that if we didn’t take its belt and all its pens away each year that, yeah, the whole enchilada would’ve offed itself already.”

“Stop trying to wrestle with the big picture, son,” Bobby tells him. Dean grabs a couple of beers out of the cooler and sits down next to Addison, who takes one of the beers. “You’re gonna hurt your head. So, what’s the gruff?”

“Well, uh, there’ve been a rash of sightings all over the southern pine barrens - a strange, fast moving, human like creature. Locals even have a name for it,” Sam explains, handing Bobby some of the research he had done.

“The Jersey Devil? I thought that was just local tall tale crap.”

“Sightings in the area go back two hundred years,” Addison says. “Accounts have it with wings, horns, a tail.”

“Of course, the sketch looks more like a Chewbacca head,” Dean counters.

“Sounds kind of mixed up,” Bobby states.

“Yeah, kind of like it should be fighting a Japanese robot.”

“Well, mixed up or not, it sounds like it might just have a body count,” Sam says, handing Bobby a newspaper article.

“‘Camping high season harshed by human burrito,’” Bobby disbelievingly reads.

“Yeah. Something hung a camper up in a tree, then ate him alive right through his sleeping bag. His wife hasn’t been seen either. Plus, there have been four other missing persons reported in the last three weeks. State troopers - get this - are saying it’s a rogue bear.”

Dean scoffs. “Of course, when was the last time you saw a bear string up its own pinata?”

“Something’s out there in the woods,” Bobby argues. “Hey, we’re going honest to goodness wilderness hunting. I haven’t used my .30-30 in a while.”

“Okay, Davy Crockett, well, safari’s gonna have to wait till tomorrow and after our suit and tie dance. We’ll make sure this is not just some backwoods crackhead who likes to roll glampers.”

A confused look crosses Bobby’s face. “What the hell’s a glamper?”

“Ads.”

“High end camper,” Addison explains. “TV, AC, wi-fi, fridge. Back to nature with none of the inconvenience.”

“That’s idiotic.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “Some people just don’t know how to live.”

Addison shrugs. “I’d rather be a glamper right now.”

* * *

Upon entering the Biggerson’s restaurant with Bobby, Addison’s gaze goes straight to the sign advertising the newest sandwich. Her and Bobby had paid a visit to the local coroner’s office while the boys had talked to the park rangers. "So?” She blinks and sees that Dean and Sam had joined them.

“Well, we took a look at the cadaver,” Bobby begins.

“What was left of it anyway,” Addison comments.

“Don’t have any stats on a Jersey Devil, but the bite radius on the vic’s wounds - it’s too small for a Leviathan. And he’s still got a ventricle and some change, so I doubt we’re talking werewolf. And a wendigo don’t leave no scraps.”

Dean nods. “Hmm. Lunch?”

“Yes! God, I’m starving,” Addison blurts out causing the three men to stare at her. “Shut up!”

Dean shrugs and waves at a passing waiter. “Hey! Uh, Brandon. Can we grab a booth?”

Brandon glares at him. “Hey, uh, douchewad, a hostess will seat you. Do I look like a freaking hostess?”

“Do you want to look like a hostess?”

Brandon shoots Dean another glare before leaving. “That didn’t really make sense, what you…said,” Sam awkwardly points out.

“What was that?”

“I sure hope we don’t get Brandon’s section,” Bobby says.

After getting a booth and ordering, Brandon brings them their food, with a clearly unhappy look on his face. “Sidewinder soup and salad combo goes to Big Bird,” Brandon says, setting a plate down in front of Sam. “TDK slammers for Ken Doll and Ginger. And a little heart-smart for creepy uncle.”

“What is your problem,” Dean demands.

“You are my problem,” Brandon snaps and walks away.

“Oh, Brandon’s got his flare all up in a bunch,” Bobby says.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “There goes his eighteen percent.”

“At least he didn’t call me fat,” Addison mutters, then takes a bite of her sandwich.

“Anyway,” Dean says. “Chief ranger - I don’t think he believes in the Jersey Devil.”

“Oh, by the way, did he seem a little, uh, stoned to you,” Sam questions.

“Ranger Rick? Yeah. Definitely growing his own on the back forty and smoking all the profits.”

“He did seem to think that there was something—”

“This is like the world’s best sandwich,” Addison says, staring her sandwich in amazement.

“What the hell did you get,” Bobby questions.

Addison picks up the flyer on the table. “The new pepperjack turducken slammer. Limited time only.”

“Bunch of birds shoved up inside each other. Shouldn’t play God like that.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “My dad just died. I’m allowed to eat my feelings.”

“Damn, this is a good sandwich,” Dean says. Sam stares as his brother takes a bite of his own sandwich. “Hey, don’t look at me sideways from that — that Chinese chicken geezer salad there, okay? This is awesome. Like the perfect storm of your top three edible birds.”

“All right, anyways, um…” Sam trails off watching them take another bite. “The ranger did seem to think there was something out in Wharton Forest.”

“Well, then I’d say it’s safari time,” Bobby says. Yelling from the back of the restaurant causes them to look and see Brandon arguing with a manager.

They watch as Brandon storms out of the restaurant. Addison shrugs and turns her attention back to the sandwich. “Well, anyway, back to bigger and better things,” Dean says, then takes a bite of his sandwich.

* * *

Addison lets out an annoyed sigh as follows the guys through the woods. She had wanted to stay in the house, but they all insisted that she join them, saying that it was safer with them than alone. They stop and watch as Bobby picks up a tuft of fur. “Couple of bucks. Head butting over turf probably,” he tells them. “Pretty sure the other fella won.”

“I guess I forgot. Before you were a hunter, you were actually a…hunter,” Sam says.

“Yeah, well, we shot our dinner when I was kid.”

“You used to take us hunting. Remember? Dad had a case, he’d just dump us on you. Shoot, you must have taught us most of the outdoor tracking we know,” Dean reminisces.

“Yeah, what I could get to stick. I never could get you little grubs to pull a trigger on a single deer.”

“You’re talking about Bambi, man.”

“You don’t shoot Bambi, jackass. You shoot Bambi’s mother.”

Addison stares at Dean. “You’ve never shot a deer?”

“What and you have,” Dean argues.

“Yeah. I was fourteen when I took down my first buck.”

“There’s no way Patrick took you deer hunting.”

“He didn’t. I went with a friend and her dad.”

Dean shakes his head and turns back around. He stops, seeing a bloodied arm hanging out of a tree. “Well, looks like we found Phil.”

* * *

A car pulling up causes the group to turn. Night had fallen as they waited for a park ranger to show up. “Special Agents,” the ranger greets, climbing out of the Jeep. “Listen, I got your call. But I’m not sure I got what you were saying.” Dean points above them and the ranger looks up. “Hey. I think we found Phil.”

“That’s what I said,” Dean replies.

“Uh, I should probably call this in.”

“Yeah, yeah. Solid move, Rick,” Sam agrees.

The ranger moves back over to his Jeep. Addison frowns, hearing the bushes move. “Did you hear that,” she asks, looking around.

Dean protectively moves in front of her as Bobby and Sam look around. “Ranger, I think we’ve got company,” Bobby calls out.

“Yeah? Who’s that,” the ranger asks. Suddenly, something comes out of the bushes and drags the ranger into the trees.

“Ranger,” Sam shouts. They take off in the direction that the ranger had been dragged. “Ranger Evans! Ranger!”

Rustling comes from above them. “It’s got him up in the trees. Lights off,” Bobby orders, turning the light off on his rifle.

“What,” Dean ask, confused. He turns the light off on his rifle.

“Wait, Bobby, you think that’s really a good idea,” Sam questions.

“Shut up, shut off, and listen,” Bobby tells him. Sam turns off the light. “Damn thing’s eating Rick.”

“Man, I liked Rick,” Dean comments.

Bobby aims his rifle towards the trees. He closes his eyes and fires. A creature falls out and lands on the ground. “Awesome shot, Bobby,” Addison says.

“Seriously,” Sam says.

Bobby shrugs. “We all got our gifts.”

“What about the rest of Ranger Rick,” Dean asks, looking up at the trees.

“Ranger called in his 10-20. His own will find him,” Bobby replies, shouldering his rifle. “We got crap to do.”

* * *

Addison and Bobby follow the guys into the abandoned house. She stands back as they place the creature on the table. To her, it looked like just a regular guy, except he was pale, his eyes were clouded, and blood covered his face. "Built like a supermodel, but the thing was strong. That’s for damn sure. Carried a full grown man up a tree in nothing flat,” Bobby says as the guys crowd around the table.

“But it only took one bullet to bring it down,” Sam argues.

“And not even a silver bullet, just a bullet bullet,” Dean comments. The creature sits up and the hunters quickly pull out to their guns, rapidly firing at it. The creature falls back onto the table and they all let out a relived breath.

“First one must have just stunned it,” Bobby says.

“All right, well, let’s check its Hulk pants for some ID,” Dean says, moving forward. He searches the creature’s pants, before finding a goo covered wallet. “Ugh, that is just gonna ruin the leather.”

Sam takes the wallet out his hand. “Are you feeling okay,” Bobby asks Dean.

“Yeah, I feel great.”

“Gerald Browder, uh, lived here in town, 5'9, brown hair and blue eyes…235 pounds,” Sam reads from the driver’s license.

Addison’s gaze widens. “I wonder what kind of diet he was on.”

“Well, apparently, he’s lost a little pudge,” Bobby comments.

Dean laughs. “Maybe it’s a — a lap band side effect.” Addison snorts and leans against him.

Bobby and Sam stare at them. The older hunter picks up a stick and prods the bullet wounds on the creature. A grey goo seeps out of the wounds. “What the hell? I think we better have a look under Gerald’s hood.”

A while later, Addison is sitting on the couch. Sam and Bobby were standing by the table, examining the creature’s chest. “God,” Bobby exclaims. “Its organs are swimming in the stuff.”

“You guys getting hungry,” Dean asks, entering the room with a glass of whiskey. “I’m hungry.”

“Me too,” Addison brightly says. Dean flops down next to her and she snorts in amusement.

“What’s that,” Sam asks, touching an organ.

“His stomach. For a guy on a diet, Gerry here packed it in pretty good,” Bobby says, cutting open the stomach.

“That’s human right there.”

“That’s fresh Rick. Let’s see. Plus…” Bobby reaches in and pulls a few objects covered in goo. “A pine cone? Pack of gum in the wrapper.”

Sam pulls out a piece of flesh. “That’s — that’s older. Maybe like a — maybe Ranger Phil or the camper.”

“What’s that?”

Sam picks it up the object. “Looks like a — yeah, that’s a — that’s a cat’s head.”

“A glamper or two is one thing, but you got to be damn hungry to eat a cat’s head.” Sam nods in agreement. “Well, look it here. I’m no Dr. Oz, but…” Bobby pulls out a large, black object. “I think that’s his adrenal glands.”

Sam frowns in confusion. “Okay. And?”

“Meant to be the size of hotel bar stop and bright orange.”

Sam exhales, trying not to breathe in the smell. “All right, that might help explain the strength. Um, but whatever this thing is, it’s not the Jersey Devil, but it sure as hell ain’t Gerald Browder anymore.”

“Okay, guys, seriously. It’s time for dinner,” Dean asks, looking between Sam and Bobby. Addison laughs and leans against Dean.

* * *

Addison moans in delight as she takes a bite of the turducken slammer. Dean had ordered the same sandwich and was eagerly digging into his. Bobby and Sam had opted to just have coffee. “Gerald Browder, thirty-five, self employed. Air conditioning repairman,” Sam reads from his laptop. “Missing person number three. Disappeared eight days ago.”

“Well, that explains all the people who got eaten in the last eight days,” Bobby replies.

“Yeah. Question is, what happened to him?”

Dean groans and continues chowing down. Sam stares at him. “Dean. Uh, so, what do you think?”

“I’m not that worried about it,” Dean replies, through a mouthful.

Bobby frowns. “Excuse me?”

“That’s funny, right? I could give two shakes of a rat’s ass. Is that right? Do rats shake their ass or is it something else?”

Sam looks around the restaurant. The majority of the customers were eating the same sandwich as Dean and Addison. “Give me that,” Sam says, ripping the sandwich out of Dean’s hands.

“Whoa, whoa! Why?”

Sam reaches for Addison’s sandwich, but she quickly moves it out of his reach. “No,” Addison says, taking another bite. Bobby grabs it out of her hand. “Bobby! Get your own sandwich!”

“There’s some funky chicken in the TDK slammer, ain’t there,” Bobby asks, examining the sandwich.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. He sniffs the sandwich and shakes his head. It smelt just like the adrenal glands from Gerald Browder.

* * *

“This is stupid,” Dean says, as they walk into the house. Addison huffs and sits down on the couch. “Our sandwiches didn’t do anything. I don’t know what you think you’re gonna find.”

Bobby drops the tin foil swan on the table. “There’s something wrong with both of you, Dean,” he says as Sam unwraps the sandwich.

“Are you kidding? I’m fine! I — I actually feel great. The best I’ve felt in a couple months. Cas? Black goo? I don’t even care anymore. And you know what’s even better? I don’t care that I don’t care. I just want my damn slammer back.”

“I want some cheesy poofs,” Addison says. “Dean, get some cheesy poofs.”

“You guys are completely stoned, just like Ranger Rick was,” Sam counters.

“Just like the dinner rush back at Biggerson’s. And everybody’s loving the Turducken,” Bobby continues.

Suddenly, goo bubbles out of the sandwich. “I think you pissed off our sandwiches,” Dean comments.

Addison gasps as more goo comes out. “That’s in us? That’s not good.”

“Only half of it,” Sam reassures.

Bobby looks at the goo. “Does that snot look familiar?”

“Okay, so whatever turned Gerry Browder into a pumpkin head and is currently turning Dean and Addison into a couple of idiots—”

“Hey,” Addison interrupts.

“We’re right here,” Dean says. “Right here.”

“Is in the Turducken Slammer at Biggerson’s,” Bobby continues, ignoring them.

“Yeah.”

“Its in the meat.”

“If I wasn’t so chilled out right, I would puke,” Dean comments.

“I still want some cheesy poofs,” Addison says. “Sam, get me some cheesy poofs.”

* * *

Sam glances in the back of the van to see Dean and Addison asleep. He was worried about them, but he was more worried about his older brother. "How are they doing,” he asks, glancing at the older hunter in the driver’s seat. Currently, they were staking out the Biggerson’s restaurant.

“They’re sleeping it off,” Bobby replies. “Tryptophan coma.”

“So, you think they’re okay?”

“Yeah, they’re all right.”

“Good. So, you don’t worry about Dean?”

“What, you mean before the turducken?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I kind of mean more like, uh…more like ever since my head broke and we lost Cas. I mean, you ever fell like he’s — he’s going through the same motions but he’s not the same Dean, you know?”

“How could he be?”

“Right, yeah, but what if—”

“What if what, Sam? You know, you worry about him. All he does is worry about you. Who’s left to live their own life here? The two of you — aren’t you full up just playing Snufflupagus with the Devil all the live long?”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, Bobby. Seeing Lucifer’s fine with me.”

Bobby glances at him. “Come again?”

“Look, I’m not saying it’s fun. I mean to be honest with you, I — I kind see it as the best case scenario. I mean…” Sam presses down on the scar on his hand. “At least all my crazy’s under one umbrella, you know? I kind of know what I’m dealing with. A lot of people got it worse.”

Bobby shakes his head. “You always were one deep little son of a bitch.”

A delivery truck pulls around the back of Biggerson’s. “Wait, wait, wait,” Sam says. “Here we go.” They watch as the driver unloads crates from the back and wheels it into the restaurant. A few minutes later, the truck drives away.

Bobby starts the van. “Well, I guess we follow him.”

* * *

Addison groans and throws an arm over her face as she lays in the back of the van. Her head was killing her and had been since she had woken up. Dean had been drinking a constant stream of coffee since he woke up. "That’s weird, right,” Sam says. “I mean, national franchise like Biggerson’s getting meat from a place that looks like it wholesales Hong Kong knockoffs.”

“It’s more than weird,” Addison replies.

“All right, well, I guess we wait till they close up shop, go take a look around?”

“Hang on,” Bobby says as a car pulls up.

“No,” Sam states watching as Edgar climbs out of the car. “Edgar.”

“Leviathans,” Dean states. Edgar opens the trunk of his car and pulls out a hooded man. “Son of bitch.”

“What the hell is going on,” Bobby asks, lowering the binoculars.

* * *

Dean’s slowly drinking his coffee as he and Bobby sit in the van. Sam was doing some recon while Addison was taking a bathroom break. “There’s nothing happening back here at all,” Sam says over the speaker coming from Bobby’s phone.

“Yeah, okay, Sam. They’re pretty dug in, so you just finish circling and head on back,” Bobby replies, then hangs up his phone. He tosses his phone in the empty cup holder. “How’s your head?”

“Well, I think the Slammer has pretty much wore off,” Dean says. “In between that and the twenty cups of coffee, I’m nicely tense and alarmed.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

Dean stares at the man he considered a second father for a moment. “Oh, Bobby, don’t go all Sigmund Freud on me right now, okay? I just got drugged by a sandwich.”

“I wanna talk about your new party line.”

“Party line? What are you talking about? I don’t even vote.”

“The world’s a suicide case. We save it, it just steals more pills.”

“Bobby, I’m here, okay? I’m on the case. What’s the problem?”

“I’ve seen a lot of hunters live and die. You’re starting to talk like the dead ones, Dean.”

“No, I’m talking the way a person talks when they’ve had it. When they can’t figure out why they used to think all this mattered.”

“Oh, you poor, sorry — you’re not a person.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, now. You tried to hang it up and be a person with Lisa and Ben. And now here you are with a mean old coot and a van full of guns. That ain’t person behavior, son. You’re a hunter. Meaning you’re whatever the job you’re doing today. Now, you get a case of the Anne Sextons, something’s gonna come up behind you and rip your fool head off. Now, you find your reasons to get back in the game. I don’t care if it’s love or spite or a ten dollar bet. I’ve been to enough funerals, I mean it. You die before me and I’ll kill you.”

Dean stares for a moment. “We need to scrape some money together, get you a condo or something.”

The side door opens and the hunters turn to see Sam and Addison. “There’s something big going on,” Addison says, climbing into the van.

Dean and Bobby turn back to see numerous black SUVs pull into the parking lot. “Well, I’ll be a squirrel in a skirt,” Bobby says, watching a man in a suit climb out of an SUV. “It’s Dick fucking Roman.”

“Who the hell is Dick fucking Roman,” Dean questions.

Sam grabs his laptop and a few minutes later, they’re watching a news story about Dick Roman, the CEO of Richard Roman Enterprises. “Holy shit. What the hell is that,” Dean asks.

“That’s one of the top fifty most powerful men in America,” Sam answers.

“Says here top thirty-five as of last month. Now it’s all making sense. Remember when Crowley kept going on about hating Dick? I thought he was just being general.”

“Well, if the Leviathans got to him, then that means they’re playing on a much bigger board than we were thinking,” Bobby tells him.

“So what then? I mean, we can’t exactly outgun them,” Sam replies.

“No. But we got the drop on them. Means we got a chance to figure out what these guys are really doing here.”

A snapping sound causes Dean to turn where Bobby was putting something together in the back. “Whoa, where did you get that mother?”

“Ah, it’s on loan from Frank’s Big Brother collection,” Bobby replies, examining the oversized microphone. “It’ll pick up vocal vibrations from window glass at half a mile. Well, it’s time to find out what these ugly bastards are up to.”

“And I’ll man the van,” Addison says, causing the brothers to exchange a look. “Hey, if it was a regular monster, I’d be game. But last time they kidnapped me and none of you realized it.”

Dean clears his throat. “All right, well, let’s get to work.”

* * *

"Our side’s still dead, Bobby. Anything with you,” Dean asks as the trio sits in the van. Addison was sitting in the driver’s seat, incase the boys got out to go help Bobby.

“Yeah, same here,” Bobby replies over the phone. “I got…hold on. Yeah, I got movement. My side, second floor, meeting room. Dick’s meeting with the doctor from Sioux Falls.”

"What’s happening now,” Dean questions.

“Wait,” Bobby replies. “Now I have officially seen it all.”

Sam frowns. “Bobby, what is it?”

“He’s making the doctor eat himself.”

Addison stares at the phone. “What?”

“He’s—"

“Bobby,” Dean asks. “Bobby!” He snaps his phone shut and climbs out of the van with Sam.

* * *

Addison takes a deep breath and wipes away her tears. She had been waiting for the boys and Bobby to come back. “Get it together,” she quietly tells herself. “Keep it together. They need you to keep it together.”

The driver’s side door door is ripped open and she looks to see Dean. Addison scoots over to the passenger seat while Sam climbs into the back. The moment the door is closed, the van’s peeling away from it’s hiding spot. They arrive near the warehouse just as Bobby runs out of the building. The older hunter climbs into the van just as Dick Roman walks out of the building. Dick manages shoot at them a couple of times before they speed off.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathes. “I’m glad you got in. He almost took your fucking head off.”

“Bobby’s been shot,” Sam tells them.


	11. Death's Door

“I’m not an idiot, Dean,” Sam snaps. Addison glances up from her cell phone. He was in the back with Bobby, doing his best to treat the bullet wound. Dean was in the driver’s seat, frantically driving, while she was trying find the nearest hospital. “I know first aid for a fucking bullet to head!”

“I need the nearest trauma center,” Dean yells into his phone.

“Hold on,” Sam says, pressing down on the wound on Bobby’s head. “Hold on.”

“What’s the address,” Dean shouts and is rewarded when an automated voices tells him directions. “All right, Bobby, hang in there.” The van skids around a curve as Dean presses down on the gas. Addison reaches over and punches Dean in the arm. “Ads, what the fuck!”

“You do that one more time and I will put my fist through your face,” Addison threatens.

“Bobby has been—”

“I know!” Addison takes a deep breath. “I know, Dean. But driving like an insane person and getting into an accident will not help Bobby.” Dean doesn’t say anything and turns his attention back to the road. Addison can’t help but shake her head. He was still driving way over the speed limit but at least he was being a tiny bit cautious.

Twenty minutes later, they’re pulling to a stop in the front of the ER of the nearest hospital. Sam throws open the side door and he and Dean carry Bobby into the ER. "Somebody help,” he shouts. “We need help! He’s been shot!” The boys are pushed to the side as nurses and doctors load Bobby onto a gurney. They follow them into a trauma room and watch as they work on him. “What’s happening?”

“Get them out of here,” the doctor orders.

A nurse pushes the boys out of the trauma room. “You need to stay out of their way.”

“That’s our uncle,” Dean tells the nurse.

“You gotta stay back.”

“What are they doing,” Sam asks.

“We need to get him stable.”

“When are you gonna take the bullet out,” Dean demands.

“If we can get the swelling down, if it’s in a place we can get to, if—”

“If he even lives that long,” Sam interrupts. The nurse pulls the curtains shut, effectively shutting the boys out. Another nurse leads them out of the ER and into the waiting room. Dean barely hears what the older woman tells them, his gaze focused on the closed doors leading to the ER.

* * *

Addison finds the boys waiting outside the curtained off area that Bobby was taken behind. The curtain opens and doctor walks out. Dean immediately steps forward and Addison grabs Sam’s hand, giving it a gently squeeze. “He’s, uh, stable for the moment,” the doctor tells them. Dean lets out a relived breath. “Just have to wait and see.”

Dean nods and the doctor walks away. He turns and none of them say anything. Bobby was lying in the small curtained room. Machines were hooked up to him. Addison squeezes Sam’s hand once more before letting go. “I’m gonna go find some coffee,” Addison softly says. She rubs Dean’s arm as she passes him. Instead of searching for coffee, she quickly makes her way outside. She leans against the building and takes a deep breath. “Keep it together. They need you to keep it together. They do not need to see you as a blubbering mess.”

“Are you okay?”

Addison turns to see a paramedic. He shoots her a smile and she humorlessly chuckles. “Yeah, uh, no. My — my uncle got shot in the head. And my dad died a couple of months ago. And — and I’m so sorry for just blurting this out to you.”

“It’s no problem. Besides, I asked. And you looked like you need someone to talk to.” A pager goes off and he pulls one off his belt. “Back to the grind. I hope your uncle recovers.”

“Thank you,” Addison softly replies. She watches as he walks away and lets out a deep breath. “You can do this.” She pulls out her cell phone and scrolls through the contacts before stopping at Sarah’s name. She stares at the number before pressing the call button.

“Hey, you’ve reached Sarah Sloan,” Sarah’s voice greets. “Sorry, I didn’t pick up. But if you leave your name and number, I’ll call back as soon as I can.”

“Hey, it’s me. Addison. Um, I’m sorry for how things when down after Dad died. Dad cared for you and you obviously cared for him. I’m really sorry. The reason I’m calling is because I could use a huge favor. My friend, Bobby Singer, he got shot and…he could really use a miracle right now, Sarah. Please.”

* * *

Clutching a cup of coffee she had managed to find in the hospital cafeteria, Addison makes her way back to where she had left the boys. They were standing in the hallway, talking with Bobby’s doctor. “So, there’s nothing else we can do,” Sam asks Bobby’s doctor.

“I’m sorry. We just have to wait, see if the swelling goes down,” the doctor replies.

“How long,” Dean questions.

“It’s hard to say in cases like this.”

“Well, he’s lasted this long. That’s something, right?”

The doctor sighs. “Well, yes. Listen, the bullet didn’t shatter. Only one hemisphere of his brain was injured. These are all positive things. But I don’t wanna give you false hope here. He’s far from out of the woods. Most of the time, cases like this…”

“They die,” Addison quietly finishes.

“Right now, it comes down to him. I’ll keep you updated.”

The doctor walks away and Addison sighs. “Bobby’s a fighter,” she tells them. “He’s not gonna let a bullet in his noggin keep him down.”

“Excuse me.” They turn to see a man wearing a suit and holding a clip board. “Sorry to interrupt. Is one of you Robert Singer’s next of kin?”

“I am,” Dean replies, stepping forward.

“Can I privately speak with you?”

Sam and Addison watch as Dean walks off with the man. “Are you okay,” she asks, looking up at Sam.

“I’m fine,” Sam replies. She grabs his hand and places the coffee cup in it. “Ads—”

“I’m going to make sure that Dean doesn’t do anything stupid,” Addison interrupts. She rubs his arm and goes in the direction that Dean and the man had went. She reaches them as the man quickly walks past her. “Dean.” He ignores her and walks out of the hospital. Sighing, she goes after him. “Please, tell me you didn’t hit him. Because we do not need you getting arrested right now.”

“No, I didn’t hit him,” Dean snaps. “I hit the wall because he was asking me about Bobby’s organs. If they would their fucking jobs—”

“They are doing everything they can,” Addison tells him. “But you can’t go around punching walls because people are doing their jobs, which includes asking you about his organs.”

“Bobby isn’t going die. One bullet isn’t going to kill him, Addison.”

“I didn’t say it was, Dean. Bobby is a fighter. We both know that. But I’m not going to let you get thrown in jail while Bobby is fighting for his life. And he wouldn’t want that either.”

Dean turns away, knowing that she was right. He sees a black town car in the parking lot and walks over to it. Anger was building within him. “Dick. I know you’re in there.” He bangs on the window. “Come on out, you dick.” The window rolls down and he’s met with a smirking Dick Roman. “What? You’d come to finish the job. Yeah? Well, come on. Right here, right now, out in the open. You and me, Dick Roman.” Dean glares when Dick stays in the car. “See? Deciding to jump a famous guy ain’t all upside. You can kill me right now, if you wanna see it online.”

“You should go check on that friend of yours,” Dick calmly replies. “He can’t be feeling too frisky right about now. I’m a very good shot.”

Dean takes a step towards the car. “We’re coming for you. And not just to hurt you, to kill you. You understand me?”

“Come on, Dean. I can’t be killed.”

“You’re gonna wish you could then.”

Dick chuckles. “That’s some conviction. You’d really crush it on the motivational circuit.”

“You’re either laughing because you’re scared or you’re laughing because you’re stupid. I’ll see you soon, Dick.” Dean walks away as Dick rolls up his car window. Addison sighs as he moves past her into the hospital.

* * *

“Where’s Dean,” Sam asks when Addison finds him outside of Bobby’s room. She leans against the wall and pulls out a cheese danish along with a can of Red Bull. She looked exhausted. He had been worried about her and he knew that Dean was too.

“Getting coffee, I think,” Addison replies.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Footsteps near them and Sam turns to see Dean. “What’d that guy want?”

“Nothing. Just some insurance mook,” Dean replies, glancing at Addison. “Dick Roman was out there.”

“What? What happened?”

“They had a staring contest,” Addison states and Dean stares at her. “What? You did. Any updates?”

“Swelling’s down a little. Um, they took him off sedation. Apparently, he started fighting his tubes so they pulled them out. He’s breathing on his own.”

“That’s good, right,” Dean asks. “Is that good?”

“Yeah. Well, doctor said best case scenario.”

“All right, so when are they gonna take the bullet out?”

“Dean, they’re not even — they’re not even gonna try that, not yet.”

“What does that mean?”

“The word’s ‘abrading,’ I think.”

“English.”

“They go in and cut out the dead brain tissue,” Addison explains.

Sam sighs. “That’s if the doctor even thinks it’s worth the risk. Can I talk to you?”

Dean looks at Addison and she shrugs as Sam moves to a more quiet area of the waiting room. “What,” he questions. “Talk about what?”

“You know what.”

Dean shakes his head. “No. We’re not gonna have that conversation.”

“But we need to.”

“He’s not gonna die.”

“He might.”

“Sam.”

“Dean, listen. We need to brace ourselves.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s real.”

“What do you wanna do? You wanna hug and say we made it through it when Dad died? Hell, Addison’s barely making it through Patrick’s death. We’ve been through enough.” Dean walks away, leaving them standing there.

* * *

Sam finds Addison sitting in the hospital chapel. She was the only one person in there. He sits down next to her and sees that she’s tightly clutching one of the Bibles. “I finally had my dad back and then he dies,” Addison quietly says. Tears were streaming down her face. “I’m pissed at him and he’s dead.”

Sam wraps an arm around her shoulders and she buries her face in his chest. He rubs her back, offering a comforting silence as she finally sobs. Ever since Patrick had died, she had barely cried. There were tears here and there, but she had never let it out. Her sobs quiet down and he doesn’t loosen his grip on her.

“I’m sorry for crying all over you.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m not fine.”

“You just lost Patrick, Ads. You’re allowed to grieve. You don’t have to worry about us. You don’t have to put on this brave face all the time.”

“You guys are my family. It’s my job to worry about you and be strong for when shit hits the fan.” Addison pulls back and wipes her face. She laughs seeing the wet spot on his shirt. “At least it’s better than drool.”

Sam chuckles. He presses a soft kiss to Addison’s forehead. “I mean it, Ads.”

“I know.” She takes a deep breath. A ring cuts through the chapel and Addison fishes out her cell phone. Sarah’s name was on the screen. “Sarah, thank you so much for calling me back,” Addison greets, squeezing Sam’s arm.

“I’m on the first plane to New York,” Sarah replies. “From there I can make my way to South Dakota. But I won’t be able to make it until tomorrow afternoon. Make sure Bobby doesn’t die before I get there. Otherwise I can’t help him.”

“We’re in New Jersey. I’ll text you the address. Thank you so much. I…I just really appreciate it. And I know Dean and Sam feel the same way.”

“I’m not doing this for you or the Winchesters. I’m doing it for Patrick. Because he should be the one calling me. Not you.”

Sarah hangs up and Addison lowers her phone. “Ads,” Sam softly questions, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Sarah’s on her way,” Addison softly says. “Says she’s gonna help Bobby.”

Sam pulls her into a tight embrace. “This is a good thing, Ads.”

“Unless Bobby dies before she gets here. Then there’s nothing she can do.”

* * *

“Keep the head of the bed up for transport. IV can run off the pump. Just run a TKVO. We’ll have to wait for respiratory,” a nurse tells another nurse as they walks past the trio. They easily recognized the nurses as the ones who had been working on Bobby.

“Wait, wait, wait. What’s happening,” Sam asks.

“He’s showing signs of responsiveness. We’re taking him up for surgery. If you wanna see him, I’d squeeze in there quick.” The trio quickly follows the nurse to Bobby’s room. Addison places a hand on Bobby’s arm while the boys remain silent. “Sorry. We need to get moving.”

“Right. Yeah,” Dean says.

“Hey, um,” Sam begins, looking at Bobby. He grabs the older hunter’s hand. “Bobby, hey, um, just…thanks. For everything.”

"All right,” the nurse asks. “Please step back.”

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

Sam feels something grab his hand and he turns to see Bobby’s eyes open. “Wait, wait, wait, stop. His eyes are open.”

The boys crowd around his bed. "Bobby,” Dean asks. Sam places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey.“

Bobby rips off the oxygen masks and gasps. "Don’t talk. Don’t talk. A pen,” Dean says, looking around. He grabs the board hanging at the end of the bed and pulls off the pen. “Here, here, here.” He hands it to Sam, who then hands it to Bobby. “What is it?”

Panting, Bobby grabs Sam’s hand and writes down some numbers. Once finished, he looks up at the boys. The boys that he considered his own sons. "Idjits,” he whispers. His eyes close and the heart monitor lets out a long beep.

“Bobby? Hey!”


	12. Adventures in Babysitting

Addison walks around the living room of Rufus’ cabin, pulling her fluffy pink robe close. Three weeks had passed since Bobby’s death and they had been holed up in the cabin ever since burning his body. Addison looks over at the wall Dean had made. Articles dealing with anything that have to do with the Leviathans or Dick Roman were pined up. She turns to see Sam put two duffel bags, filled with Bobby’s things, on the kitchen table. “You know, um…I wonder if — if we…I mean, should we be telling people,” Sam asks, looking between Addison and Dean. “I mean, people he knew.”

“How long ago did I give Frank these numbers,” Dean questions, ignoring Sam. “It’s been a few weeks, right? What, is he nuts or is he just being rude?”

“Maybe both,” Addison reasons.

“Dean, I — I asked you a question,” Sam says

“Unless, of course, something happened to him,” Dean continues, ignoring Sam. “He can’t get to the phone because a Leviathan ate his face.”

“That could’ve happened,” Addison replies.

“We should go check on him.”

“Dean, you want to call Bobby’s people or not,” Sam finally asks.

Dean looks at him, confused. “Why is — why is that our job?”

“Because who else is gonna do it?”

“I’m not calling anybody. If you want to, you go right ahead.”

”I don’t want to call anybody. You kidding me?“

They glance at Addison. "I’m not doing it,” she tells them.

A phone starts ringing and they look at the duffel bags. “Well, I’m not getting it,” Dean states, turning back to the board.

Sam sighs and reluctantly pulls out the phone. “Hello,” he answers. Addison searches through the duffel bag. She pulls out an old, dented flask and shakes her head.

“Uh, no. He’s, uh…I - I - it’s not, but I’m a friend of his.” Dean walks over to them, after grabbing a beer of out of the fridge. Addison sighs, not finding anything besides clothing in the duffels. “He’s…not here, but, look, if you need some—”

“Who was it,” Dean asks, looking at Sam.

“Just some kid.”

“For Bobby? Girl Scout cookies?”

“I think maybe…maybe a - a hunter’s kid? I mean, she sounded pretty scared. You know, I have a caller ID. Maybe we should go find her. We - we can check on her.”

“What about Frank?”

“Well, Dean, I think we should go find this girl first.”

“Sam, Frank’s been working on the numbers that Bobby spent his last breath on and you want to back burner that?”

“How about you guys go check on the girl and I’ll check on Frank,” Addison suggests. The last thing she wanted was the two of them to start arguing.

“No. Sam, you go check out girl scout. We’ll find Frank.”

“Fine,” Sam reluctantly agrees. “But you know what? On one condition - if Frank is just spinning his wheels, then you bail out on crazy and come meet me.”

Dean shrugs and goes to take a swig of his beer only to find the bottle empty. “And thanks for drinking my entire beer.”

“I didn’t touch your beer,” Sam counters. He motions to a half empty bottle on the table. “Mine’s right there. You probably drank it without noticing.”

“Right.”

Addison stares at him for a moment. She hadn’t said anything, but it had been noticed by her and Sam that Dean’s drinking had gotten worse since Bobby’s death. She sighs. “I’ll go pack.”

* * *

Dean and Addison climb out of the Buick. Frank’s house appeared normal on the outside. Dean starts towards the door with Addison behind him. They enter the house to find it empty. Dean was standing in the middle of what used to be the center of Frank’s computer room with his gun in front of him. "This can’t be good.”

A gun cocking causes them to turn. Frank was standing there, pointing a shotgun at them. “Hi, Frank. Nice to meet you,” Addison greets, holding her hands up

"Frank…we’re amongst friends here. Okay, acquaintances.”

“That’s just what a Leviathan would say,” Frank argues.

“Frank, we’re not Leviathans,” Addison tells him.

“Oh, sure. You’re not Leviathans. Dick Roman’s not a Leviathan. Gwyneth Paltrow is not a Leviathan.”

“Really?”

“Trust me.”

“Okay. You know what, Frank,” Dean says. “I think you’ve been doing a little too much research.”

“They’re anywhere, anyone. Who’s to say this ain’t the day they come for old Frank who knew too much?”

“They bleed black goo, right? You want to see what we bleed?” Frank aims his shotgun at Dean’s foot. Addison moves to the left. “Oh! Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let’s take the guns out of it, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dean sets his gun on the table and takes a switchblade out of his pocket. He opens it and pushes up his sleeve before cutting his arm. Addison pulls her sleeve up and Dean cuts her arm. Frank lowers his shotgun. “See? Red blooded Americans.” Dean wipes off the knife and holds it out to Frank. “Now your turn.”

“Oh! Whoa. Look, I’m obviously not—”

“Fair’s fair, douchebag,” Dean snaps. Frank grabs the knife and reluctantly cuts his hand. He hands the knife back to Dean. “Yeah. I’m glad we could share that together.”

“Grab your gun, come with me,” Frank tells them. “And for God’s sake, don’t make any noise.”

* * *

Frank leads them to an field empty except for a barn. An RV was sitting in the middle of the empty barn. Addison yawns as she climbs out of the Buick with Dean and Frank. "Why the downsize,” Dean asks as they walk over to the door.

“You,” Frank exclaims. They climb into the RV. Frank had the same setup with numerous computers on a table and a chair in front of them. “‘Hey, Frank, go dig up some dirt on Richard Roman.’ That night, I was burned off every IP I had. Ears on my phones, eyes on my house…”

“Wait. Dick’s got people watching you?”

“Do I look like I know? You think it’s easy to see this deep into what’s real and also be bipolar with delusional ideation? There is no pill for my situation, sweetie pop, so yeah, best guess - the bigmouths are onto me. Next question.”

“Any update on the Leviathans,” Addison questions.

“Their tentacles are everywhere. I - I’m looking at bankers, military high ups…”

“This is why you didn’t call me back,” Dean reasons.

“Hey, cut me some slack. You called me like four days ago.”

“Actually, Frank, it was three weeks ago,” Addison corrects.

“What? No. Really?” Addison nods. Frank shrugs. “Days, weeks - quit busting my chops.”

“What, are you kidding me,” Dean replies, clearly annoyed.

“You cool your heels, Buster Brown.”

“Frank, I paid you fifteen grand for this.”

Addison stares at Dean with a shocked look. “You paid how much!?”

“Yeah, I get that—” Frank begins.

“No, you don’t get that,” Dean angrily interrupts. “Dick Roman is on every card in my hit deck. You understand that? Those numbers, they got something to do with him, okay? Bobby died for those numbers.”

“Look, I’m sorry about Bobby. I really am. You know, this one time, we were in Fresno and we got stuck—”

“No. No, no, no. I’m not gonna play 'this one time with Bobby’ shit, all right? I’m not gonna get all warm and fuzzy with somebody else who barely knew him.”

“Just trying to make friendly conversation.”

“This is not a friendship, Frank. I’m paying you!”

“Hey. You know what you need? A little LSD, a little shiatsu—”

“I’m out of here.”

Addison and Frank watch as Dean starts towards the door of the RV. “Hey, you want to know what those numbers are,” Frank calls out. “Bupkis. They’re not lottery numbers, license—”

Dean stops and glares at Frank. “I know that, Frank. Thank you.”

“Which leaves us little else to do but probability generate.”

“Come again?”

“Guess,” Addison informs Dean.

Frank sits down at his computers. “You run most reasonable possibilities for a Levi-related five-digit number written by a dying drunk, you come up flat. Know what you start to wonder? 'Hey, maybe I’m missing a number.’”

“Well, how do you figure,” Dean questions.

“Probably because Bobby was dying of brain trauma,” Addison tells him.

Frank nods. “Exactly. I just had a tickle there was a reason nothing was popping out at us, so I set up a program to run possibilities for six numbers, seven, eight. But good news.”

“Which is?”

“Never had to go past six because this…” Frank types in the numbers and a map pops up. “My little lambs, is coordinates.”

“Where?”

“A field in Wisconsin.”

“No,” Dean says, shaking his head. “No, Bobby didn’t give us coordinates to some patch of weeds in Cheeseville.”

“No, he gave you coordinates to a parcel recently purchased by Willman, Inc., a subsidiary of Richard Roman Enterprises.”

Addison sighs. “So, now what?”

“Stay away. Or, if we’re stupid…we go there and set up surveillance.”

* * *

"Find Frank,” Sam asks. Addison sighs as she leans against the side of the barn. She had needed a break from being inside the RV, so she had ventured outside. There was nothing around the barn, except a field of weeds.

Addison sighs, putting her phone on speaker. “Yeah. We found out that the numbers are coordinates. Apparently, Mr. Roman bought some land in the Wisconsin. And we’re getting ready to head up there.“

"Wait, wait, wait. You’re just gonna drive right up to—”

“Relax,” Dean says, walking over to Addison. “It’s a field, not the Death Star. Dick’s at a TED Conference. It’s all over The Huffington Post.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Since when do you read?”

“Know your enemy, Sam. What’s going on with the girl?“

"I don’t think she even knows her dad’s in the life. So far, I got three missing truckers and one blood free body.”

“Good times. Alright, well, keep us posted.”

Addison watches as Dean hangs up her phone. “Are we going to talk about it,” she softly asks.

“Talk about what?”

“The fact that you paid Frank fifteen grand, Dean.”

Dean shoots her a confused look. “Why does it matter?”

Addison shakes her head. “You know what? It doesn’t.”

“Got the equipment arranged,” Frank announces, walking over to them carrying some clothes. “Get your costumes on so we can scoot.”

Dean shoots Addison a confused look and she shrugs. “Costumes? What?”

* * *

The truck comes to a stop near the empty field that Dick Roman had brought. Addison climbs out of the truck. They were all wearing overalls and hardhats for a local telephone company. “What the hell’s so special about this place,” Dean asks, looking around.

“I love a mystery,” Frank answers. He turns to them. “Now, one of you get up in that cherry picker and act like you’re fixing something.”

“No way in hell am I getting on that thing,” Addison says.

“I don’t know how to drive that thing,” Dean argues.

“Then you better figure it out.”

“Well, why do I got to be the sap that—”

“Because I got cramps.” Dean stares at her, then reluctantly climbs onto the cherry picker. Addison walks over to where Frank was looking around the field with binoculars. “What are we looking for?”

“Nothing,” Frank answers. He walks towards the truck and Addison follows him. “Come on down, Tarzan!”

“What,” Dean questions, lowering the cherry picker.

“Get down here. We need to move. They got this place wired up the wazoo.”

“Wait, they’re watching us,” Addison asks.

“Nah, they’re just watching Cheech and Ed from Ma Bell.”

Addison rolls her eyes. Dean climbs down from the cherry picker. “You know, it’s gonna be a little difficult to set up surveillance if there’s, uh, surveillance everywhere.”

“Then can’t we just hack their surveillance,” Addison suggests. Frank nods and climbs into the truck. She sighs and walks around to the passenger side.

* * *

The second her head had hit the pillow on the bed in the back of Frank’s RV, Addison was out. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept so long. She was surprised to find Dean still asleep when she had gotten up. Addison’s outside the RV, running a hand through her as she tries calling Sam. The voicemail he had left was worrying. The RV door opens and she turns to see Dean climb out. “I’m going to go help Sam,” he says. “You’re going to stay here and keep an eye on that Amanda Willer chick.”

Addison had been awake when Amanda Willer had appeared on the security feed. The woman worked for Richard Roman Enterprises and it was obvious to Addison that she was leading a team of surveyors. “You’re going to go help Sam with the Vetalas on your own.”

An angry look appears on Dean’s face. “You knew!? Why the fuck didn’t you wake me, Addison?”

“Because you needed to sleep, Dean. And because I just got up a couple of hours ago,” Addison tiredly answers. She was tired of everything. "And because I tried calling Sam but he didn’t pick up. And I didn’t want to just leave you here. So, if you wanna be pissed, then fine.”

“Then I’m going to go—”

“I’m not staying here, Dean. We’re both going,” Addison snaps, walking to the passenger side and climbing in, effectively ending their conversation.

* * *

The drive to where Krissy and her dad were living was a tense one. The only noise came from the radio. The silence doesn’t go away when they walk up to the apartment. Krissy lets them in. She was no older than fourteen, with long brown hair. "Did Sam tell you where he was going,” Krissy asks as Dean looks around.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Dean answers. “What did you tell him?”

“Uh…he checked my dad’s room.”

Dean motions to the bedroom behind him. “There?”

“Yeah.”

Addison watches as Krissy stands in the doorway as Dean looks around the room. “Look, I really don’t have time to hold your hand here, so—” Dean begins.

“What are you saying,” Krissy interrupts.

“I’m saying go wait in the living room. Your dad may not want you to know every single thing about him.”

“Krissy, how much do you know about hunting,” Addison asks. Krissy look at Addison with a surprised look on her face. Addison stares at the teenager with a knowing look.

“Sam seemed competent, so I figured, fine — I’ll do what my dad always tells me to. 'Be a regular kid, don’t say anything, stay out of the line of fire. Let the adults work it out.’ So much for that,” Krissy admits.

“All right. Hand it over. Okay? I have had a long, long week,” Dean demands. Krissy pulls out a gun and aims it at him. “Alright, I get it. You’re a tough kid. But I’m trying to get Sam and your dad back.”

“My dad left and he didn’t come back. Sam left and he didn’t come back. I give you guys the info, you leave, you don’t come back.”

Addison places a hand over Krissy’s. “Krissy, look at me.” Krissy glances at her. “Look at me.” After a moment, the teenager looks at Addison. “Dean’s coming back. And he’ll be coming back with your father.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No. No. Hell, no,” Dean counters. Addison glares at him.

“I’m coming,” Krissy exclaims. “Or you’re not going.”

Addison pulls the gun from Krissy’s hand. “Okay. Then you get to come,” she says, in a calming voice. She can feel Dean’s glare on her. “But only because I’m guessing that you have the info we need.”

“I memorized everything before I burnt it,” Krissy confesses.

Addison nods. She hands Krissy back her gun. “Put this up and pack an overnight bag.” Krissy glances at Dean, then walks out of the room.

“What the hell are you thinking,” Dean snaps. “Teeny bopper isn’t—”

“Dean, we either let her come with us or she’s gonna run off by herself and get hurt,” Addison counters. A tired look appears on her face. “Please, just trust me on this.”

* * *

Dean glances in the rearview mirror. Addison was stretched out in the backseat, asleep. He had been confused when she had insisted that Krissy sit in the front seat, especially since he knew that Addison was able to sleep anywhere. “Hey, I have a question,” Krissy says, breaking the silence.

“All right, here’s the deal,“ Dean coldly starts. "I’m a fun guy. I’m actually awesome. Okay? But right now, I’m not in the mood. I’m neck deep in some serious crap and if this wasn’t an emergency, I would drop your ass off at the nearest mall.”

“What serious crap?”

“Revenge crap, all right? Now shut up. Eat a cookie or something.” He rolls his eyes when he hears Addison snoring.

“One thing doesn’t make sense, though,” Krissy says, causing them to look at her. “My dad’s a pretty great hunter and your brother’s the size of a car, so…so, how’d this thing get 'em both?”

“Vetalas usually hunt in pairs. Sam and your dad both thought it was one thing hunting solo.”

“Why’d they think that?”

“Because they had the wrong info. Or best available. Our dad took down a loner years ago. Sam has his journal. Your dad must’ve been going on the same facts.”

“And you know different cause…”

“Because Ads and I hunted one that turned out to be two a couple years back.”

“And neither of you told Sam? Wow, thanks. How 'bout sharing that with the rest of the class so we don’t all get killed?”

“Sam was away at Stanford, smartass.”

Krissy’s eyes widen. “Sam went to college? I thought you said your dad was a hunter.”

“He was. We were. Sam quit, went to college. Ads quit too and went to college.” Dean glances at Krissy and sees her taking everything in. "You could too, you know — go to college. Be a hunter slash pediatrician.”

* * *

Dean looks at the young girl sitting next to him. She reminded him of Addison when they were teenagers. They were parked near a diner, waiting for one of the Vetalas to show. “You ever actually work with your dad,” he asks.

“Sure. Course,” Krissy answers, not looking at him.

“Shooting cans in the woods doesn’t count,” Addison tells her.

Krissy shrugs. “I mean, I help all the time.”

Dean chuckles. “So, no. Well, right about now, your stomach should be pretty knotted up.”

Krissy shakes her head. “Not really. Look, maybe this was a lot hard for you when you were my age.”

“Oh, you think you’re a good actress. You’re not.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but it’s all over your face — you’re scared.”

Krissy glares at him. “Quit treating me like I’m some girl. I’ve been prepping for this my entire life.”

“Training’s one thing. Doing — whole another beast.”

“Wow. You really scared me straight. Thanks, Dean,” Krissy sarcastically says. She frowns, noticing a blonde waitress get into the cab of one of the trucks. “Why is that waitress getting into that truck?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m not explaining the R-rated crap to you.”

Addison leans forward. “I think she meant why is the waitress getting in the driver’s seat, Dean.”

* * *

They followed the truck to a warehouse area and watch as the waitress enters one of the buildings. “All right,” Dean says, turning off the Buick and looking at Krissy. Addison rolls her eyes when she sees him hold up a fist.

“What century is this,” Krissy disbelievingly asks. “No one fist bumps anymore.”

Dean waves his fist. “Come on. Give it up. Good work.”

“You’re a dweeb.”

“Look, Krissy, you might as well do it, otherwise we’ll be sitting here all night,” Addison informs.

Krissy sighs and reluctantly bumps his fist. Dean quickly grabs her wrist and puts a handcuff on it. “What the hell?”

“I got an idea,” Dean states, putting the other end around the steering wheel. “How 'bout you stay here?”

“Oh, you jackass.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the jackass who ain’t bringing a kid in there, period.”

“Why,” Krissy argues. “I can do everything you guys can do.”

Addison leans forward. “We’ll bring them back.”

“Please, they’re probably dead.”

“You don’t know that,” Dean tells her.

Krissy sighs. “It’s been days. Probably just a pile of meat. I’ve seen it. People die, guys. I watched my mom get torn to shreds. Let me go in there and kill them.”

Addison shakes her head. “No.”

“You’re such a hypocrites! How come you get to do it and I don’t?”

“Because we’re the adults.”

Dean holds out his hand. “Give it to me.”

“What?”

“Your lock pick. I will frisk you.” Krissy reaches into her jacket pocket and puts the pick in Dean’s hand. “Thank you.”

Addison holds out her hand. “And the bobby pins.” Krissy glares at Addison as she pulls bobby pins out of her hair. Addison shoves them into her pocket “I promise that we’ll bring them back.”

Addison smiles at Krissy and climbs out with Dean. “You’re an evil genius,” Dean mutters as they walk towards the warehouse.

“Well, I was a teenage girl at one time. I know how they think,” Addison amusedly replies as Dean picks the lock on the door and they silently enter.

Sam and two other men were tied up to chairs. The blonde waitress from earlier and a dark haired woman in heels were standing behind them. “Good thing we picked up a new one,” the waitress, pulling one of the men’s heads back. “This one’s about tapped out. You want to finish him together?”

“Sure. Love to,” the other woman says.

Dean starts towards them, but Addison grabs his arm. “Dean, wait,” she whispers. He ignores her and runs over to them, picking up a metal pipe in the process. He swings it at the brunette, who falls to the ground. He pulls out a silver knife as the waitress moves towards him.

“Not so fast,” the waitress tells him. Dean swings at her, but she hits him. She grabs him and slams him against the wall with a hand around his throat.

Addison runs to help him, but the brunette on the ground grabs her ankle. Dean reaches out and is able to grab another metal pipe. He hits the waitress, hard, and she falls down. Addison rolls onto her back and punches the brunette. The vetala yanks Addison up and glares at Dean, who had a knife to the throat of the blonde vetala. “Let her go or Red here gets it,” the brunette says. Dean releases his hold on the blonde vetala. He takes a step towards them. “Now drop the knife!”

Dean reluctantly sets the knife on the floor. “Let her go.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll be letting anyone go.”

“Let them go and you can have me,” Addison tells the vetalas.

“Ads, no,” Dean warns. “Let her go.”

“Dude, I got this,” Addison argues.

“All right,” the blonde snaps. “Enough with the lover’s spat. It’s time for you to shut up.” The blonde grips the man’s hair and tanks her fangs into his neck.

The brunette vetala suddenly loses her grip on Addison and she falls to the floor. Addison stares at Krissy, who had a bloody knife in her hand. Dean grabs his knife off the floor as the waitress moves towards Dean. Krissy runs past Addison and over to one of the men tied in a chair. Addison scoops her own knife off the floor and moves towards the blonde. The vetala turns to her and Addison shoves her knife into the vetala’s stomach. The vetala falls to the floor, skin grey and fangs out.

* * *

“Dean, Addison!” They stop and turn to see Krissy run out of the hospital. They had stopped to check on Lee before leaving town. Neither Addison or Dean notice Sam quietly slipping away. “Thanks for saying bye, asshats.”

Addison laughs as she exchanges an amused look with Dean. “Oh, what? Now you’re sentimental,” Dean asks.

“No. Just wanted to tell you that you’re kind of amusing for a couple of old folks,” Krissy replies, smirking.

“Hey, I’m not old,” Addison says, smiling. “Dean’s old.”

“I’m only older than you by a month and a half,” Dean argues. “How’d you get out them cuffs, anyway?”

Krissy smirks. “Girl’s got to have her secrets.”

“You could’ve gotten hurt,” Addison tells her. “Or worse.”

“I saved your bacon.”

Addison rolls her eyes. “True. But still, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“So, guess I’m retiring. One and done.”

“Really? How you feel about that,” Dean questions.

Krissy shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll go to Stanford like Sam.”

Addison shakes her head. “Yale is so much better.” She smiles. “I say that because I went there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Graduated with summa cum laude with a bachelor’s of art in history. I even spent a semester abroad at Oxford.” Addison shrugs. “You’ll figure out what do, Krissy. Just do something other than hunting.”

Krissy smiles, taking in what Addison said. She holds out a fist to Dean and bumps it. “We’re so lame.”

“Yeah, we are,” Dean agrees. “Take care of yourself.” Addison shoots Krissy a smile before the teenager disappears back into the hospital. They climb into the Buick and a silence settles over the hunters as they drive down the road.

“You know what? Good for them,” Sam says, hours later.

“Yeah. It’s nice to walk away from someone and feel like they could be okay? How about you? How you doing? You all right,” Dean replies, glancing at his brother. He glances in the rearview mirror and finds Addison sound asleep, with earbuds in.

“No. I’m definitely not,” Sam tells him. “But, you know, I mean, um, I think, maybe…I just want to work.” Dean nod and Sam looks at him. “Should I even ask?”

“I’m fine.”

“‘Fine’ meaning…”

“You’re right. We should just…work, right? And figure out a way to kick Dick Roman’s ass. Well, hey, we are the professionals.” Sam turns up the music and leans against door before closing his eyes. Neither of them notice the sad smile that Dean puts on.


	13. Time After Time

Dean takes a swig of whiskey as he sits at the kitchen table with Addison’s MacBook in front of him. He had been up all night, searching for anything related to Dick Roman. Through, all he found were various news articles about Richard Roman Enterprises’ financials. He takes another swig of whiskey and opens another article. A cell phone rings and he glances up. Sam, who had fallen asleep on the couch, groans and reluctantly sits up. He shoots his older brother an annoyed look. “Don’t give me that dirty diaper look. I ain’t calling you,” Dean tells him.

Sam sighs and grabs his phone off the coffee table. “Hello,” he answers. “Sheriff? Uh, yeah. Uh, I mean, uh…” He trails off as he moves to turn on a nearby lamp. “Okay, um, so, uh, what’s up with the body? Yeah, yeah, that’s — that’s, um, that’s our kind of number. Hey, question — how does a sheriff in Sioux Falls get wind of a case in Ohio? Well, we’ll look into it. Thanks, Sheriff. Yeah.” Sam hangs up his Blackberry and looks at Dean. “Sheriff Mills. She caught us one.”

“Aw, I feel bad. We didn’t get her anything,” Dean replies.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I hope you’re watching cartoon smut. Because reading Dick Roman shit over and over again is just self punishment.”

Dean closes the Macbook and stares at his younger brother. “It’s called anime. And it’s an art form.”

* * *

Addison sighs as she walks into an old two story house. A fence surrounded the property and it’s overgrown weeds while newspapers covered the dirty windows. Dean sets a table down and Addison places the cooler on it as Sam enters the room with a chair. “Well, there’s a semi functioning bathroom, one unrancid bedroom, one rancid but no holes, and one rancid with holes,” he tells them.

“Define semi functioning and do not use the words ‘hole in the floor,’” Dean replies.

Sam pauses, then holds out his balled up fist. Addison rolls her eyes and makes her way out of the house as the boys play for the room. After beating his older brother twice, Sam makes his way upstairs. He grabs his duffle and walks up the stairs. “How does paper beat rock,” he questions, entering the good bedroom. “It’s stupid.”

“How about you pick something other than rock,” Addison says, entering the room with her duffle bag. She drops her bag on the floor and Sam looks up from where he was rolling out his bedroll.

“No,” Sam says, grabbing her bag and shoving it in her arms. “Get your own room, Addison.”

“Sam,” Addison pouts. “Please.”

“No.”

“But this is the only room that doesn’t smell like someone died in it recently.”

“No.”

“I’ll do your laundry for a month.” Sam shoots her disbelieving look. “Fine. Ass.” Addison and Dean exchange a look, then they take off the hallway for the bedroom. Dean bumps into her on purpose and she stumbles, allowing him to reach the bedroom first. “That’s not fair. You cheated.”

“Hey, all’s fair in war,” Dean smugly responds.

Addison tosses her duffle in the corner. “Fine. I’ll stay on my side and you stay on your side.”

“Hate to break it to you, Ads, but I’m not sharing.”

“But it’s going to be super cold in the other room.”

Dean grabs her duffle bag and shoves it in her arms. “Then you better wear layers.”

* * *

“Kids playing hide and seek found the body,” Sam says as they sit in their latest car across the road from the house of a witness. Addison looks over his shoulder to see a photo of a body that appeared to have all the insides sucked out.

“Wow. Very King Tut,” Dean comments.

“Yeah, so, uh, this is where the eyewitness to the assault lives, but the cops are calling him an unreliable witness.”

“Why,” Addison questions.

Sam shrugs and closes the file. “Let’s find out,” he says, then climbs out of the Impala.

They walk up to the house and Dean knocks on the door. A young man opens the door. He and Sam flash their FBI badges. “Special Agent Smith. This is, uh, Special Agent Smith and Special Agent Smith. No relation.”

“Whoa. Do you mind if we, uh…My mom’s sleeping in there,” the man says, stepping out of his house. “So, how can I…”

“Oh, we, uh, we had a few questions about the incident you witnessed in the alley,” Sam says.

“You just gonna laugh at my story like the rest of the suits?”

Addison shoots him a comforting smile. “We’re not laughing.”

“All right, well, I’m on the steps, medicating, when I hear fighting. So I look. There’s my neighbor, Durbin, and some dude dressed like my grandpa has got him by the neck, right?”

“What do you mean he looks like your grandpa?”

“Uh, snappy shoes, suit, one of those, um, Justin Timberlake hats.”

“You mean a — a fedora,” Sam clarifies.

“Yeah!”

“Did you see anything else?”

“This red, like, energy passed through Durbin to hat guy. Even my watch stopped. Durbs…he aged before my eyes. He looked like a raisin.”

“Well, we believe you.”

The man grins. “Thank you for help,” Addison softly tells him.

“Thank you officer — officers.”

* * *

Addison shoves Dean’s feet off the cooler and opens it to grab a beer. They had made their way back to the house in order to do some research. Sam was scouring the web for information while Dean had taken to looking through John’s journal and Addison was looking through a couple of books they had brought with them. “Yeah,” Dean says, tossing the journal on the table. “Nothing that turns dudes into a crypt keeper. You guys?”

“Nothing,” Addison replies, opening her beer.

“Uh, well, greater Canton turns out, kind of a hot spot for weird dead bodies,” Sam tells them.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. News archives.” Sam turns his laptop to face them. “Not exactly reporting mummifies but sill, 1928, three deaths, cited as spontaneous combustion. Body is, quote, ‘shriveled despite no signs of fire.’”

“A little stretch, but okay,” Dean comments.

“’74, three bodies found with leathery decay. ’57, three more. Severe dehydration. But this time, one made the front page. Girl named Terry Cervantes found a corpse near her church.”

“Any pattern other than the location?”

“Random vics, random years. But they seem to drop in threes.”

Addison sighs. “Which means one more to go.”

Dean takes the laptop. “Let me drive for a sec.”

Sam smirks. “You gonna look at more anime or are you strictly into dick now?” Dean glances at his younger brother, before typing. A website with a series of security cams, all different places in Canton, appears on the screen. “Are those local feeds?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you do that so fast?”

“Little tutorial from Frank.” Dean shoots him a smug look. “Don’t worry, we’ll pretend this never happened. Now, uh, mummy numero dos was found the Gas n’ sip near main street. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

Dean types into the laptop and security footage from the gas station shows up on the screen. “All right. Well, here’s all the cameras around that store.”

“You need to teach me that trick.”

Addison rolls her eyes. She taps the computer screen as a man wearing a fedora and long coat appears in one of the security feeds. “There’s our Timberlake.”

“Wait a sec,” Sam says, taking his laptop back.

“You can’t let me bask in the glory for one second, can you,” Dean asks.

“Shut up. Look.” Sam had zoomed in on the security feed and he had zoomed in on a old photo of the same man wearing a fedora and coat.

“He hasn’t aged a day, has he? All right, well, if he’s been popping up for decades now, then somebody’s bound to know who he is, right? Is there any chance that, uh, Terry’s still local?”

* * *

“It’s so pretty in the spring. Everything is blooming,” Terry tells them, looking at the old newspaper article. She had been easy to find as she worked in a local hospital. “That’s why I walked home that way. To see the flowers. Instead, I found that body. I still have no idea what could’ve done that to that person.”

“Do you recognize that man,” Addison asks, pointing to the man wearing the fedora and coat.

“Yeah. I mean, he lived on my parents’ street. Mr. Snider.”

The trio exchanges a look. “Where’d you say your parents live,” Dean questions.

* * *

That night, they’re parked outside a yellow house at the address Terry had given them. “So, what exactly is this thing,” Dean asks, throwing his burrito wrapper on the dashboard. “Some sort of vampire who got too sucky?”

“Coroner’s reports said there was blood in the bodies,” Addison replies. “I mean, it was apparently three hundred years old, but it was still blood.”

Dean notices the fedora man walk out of the house. “Dude. Uh, fedora dude.” They watch as he walks around the back of the house. “All right, let’s do this. Let’s move fast.”

Dean pulls out his gun and cocks it. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam says. “What’s the plan here exactly?”

“Don’t die,” Dean tells them, then climbs out of the car. Addison and Sam exchange a look, then quickly climb out of the car. They hurry after the fedora man. “He’s heading downtown. All right, Sam you take the street. Ads and I’ll take the alley. We’ll meet you in the middle.” They split up. Dean and Addison stay far enough back not to be suspected, but close enough to keep an eye on the fedora man. They follow the man and stop when they see him kneeling over a homeless man. A bright red light was pouring out of the homeless man. “Son of a bitch.”

Dean takes off towards the men. “Dean,” Addison snaps, quickly running after him. The fedora man stands up just as Dean tackles him. Addison manages to grab Dean’s arm just as the red light encases the three of them. Addison groans when they land on the hard ground. A elbow is jammed in her sternum and she gasps for air. Dean manages to grab the man’s hand and sees a ring with an hourglass symbol. The man scrambles out Dean’s grasp and takes off down the alley.

“Hey,” Dean shouts, standing up and running after the man. He pulls his gun out. Addison pushes herself up and runs after him. They reach the street and freeze. Everything around them seemed to be from the 1940s. The cars, the clothes people passing them on the street wore. Everything.

“Holy shit,” Addison breathes. “Dean—”

“Hey, you!” They turn to see two police officers, pointing guns at Dean. “Drop the gun! Put it down! Drop the gun!”

“All right,” Dean replies, dropping his gun on the ground. The officers walk over to them and one of them pulls Addison to the side while the other handcuffs Dean.

“Ma’am, are you okay,” the officer softly asks.

Addison blinks. “Yeah, yes. I’m fine.”

* * *

Addison looks around the police station in amazement. The date on the desk calendar had informed her that they were in 1944. The police officers had taken Dean into an interrogation room while they had asked her to sit at a desk. “Here you go ma’am.” She looks up to see one of the officers holding a glass of water.

“Thank you,” Addison softly says, taking the glass. She takes a sip, then sets it down. “When can I see my husband?”

“Once we’re done taking his statement, Mrs…”

“Smith. Jane Smith. Is my husband under arrest? Because he hasn’t done anything wrong, Officer.”

The officer nods. “Well, Mrs. Smith, your husband had some unusual items on him. Can you tell me where you came from?”

Addison stares at the officer. “I’m not answering questions unless I can talk to my husband first.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow—”

“So, you’re going to deny my husband a lawyer? Because anything he tells you is now admissible in court.”

The officer stares at her. “Ma’am, where are you and your husband from?”

“We live in Connecticut. New Haven, to be exact.”

A voice clears and they turn to see a man. He was tall, but not as tall as Sam. He wore a brown coat with a matching hat. “Let her see her husband,” he gruffly says. Addison frowns as the officer walks away. The man motions for to stand up and she does. She follows him to where a door. He opens the door and motions for her to go ahead, but she doesn’t move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Addison walks down the stares and lets out a relived breath seeing Dean. He was sitting at a table, still handcuffed, with a police officer sitting across from him. She runs over to him and tightly embraces him. “Ma’am, you can’t—”

“Take a powder,” the mysterious man orders. The police officer quickly walks out of the interrogation room. The man pulls out the vacated chair and motions for Addison to sit down.

“Look, I don’t even like fucking sauerkraut, okay, so you can just skip the—” Dean begins.

“What happened in the alley,” the man interrupts, looking between Dean and Addison. “And paint me a real picture.”

Dean exchanges a look with Addison. “All right, well, we’ll Twelve-Monkeyed no matter what I say, so here goes. We were chasing this dude, we just seen him mummify a guy. Yeah. So, I jumped him—”

“I tried to break it up,” Addison adds.

“He lights up red. Poof, we’re in 1944.”

The man tosses a folder on the table and sits down in the empty chair next to Addison. He looks between the two hunters. He places his hat on the table. “Tell me more about the red light.”

“Are you seriously asking—”

“You both want out of this jail, you’re gonna tell me everything you can about that man and the so called light.”

“Okay. We saw it and then we were here.”

“Would you say that, uh, it was all around you or that more that it came from inside this fella?”

“You believe me.”

Addison frowns. “You’re a hunter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am.”

Dean smirks. “Demons, ghosts, shifters. Hey, we’ve killed ‘em all. And you’re the same. Just sixty-eight years before us, huh.”

The man lets out a deep breath and holds out a hand. “And your name is…”

Dean grabs his hand. “Dean…Winchester.”

“Addison Sloan,” Addison softly says.

“Ness. Eliot Ness,” the man introduces.

“Holy shit,” Addison exclaims, looking in disbelief at Dean. Ness stares at her for a moment, then undoes the handcuffs around Dean’s wrists.

“I — I gotta tell you, I mean, Untouchables, is, like, one of my most favorite movies ever.”

“It really is.”

Ness frowns. “What?”

“I must have seen that thing, like, fifty times,” Dean continues.

“‘Seen it?’ What, like, I’m in the—”

“Mr. Ness, you are huge,” Addison adds. “This is such—”

“Look, hey, wait, wait, wait. Let’s just…slow it down. Okay? Now, time travel. Is that something you find up a lot of sleeves in the future or…”

“No, no, no. It’s, uh, not normally on the menu,” Dean tells him. “Trust me. We’re just as surprised as you are that we’re here.”

“So, we’re hunting the same thing, just in different centuries.” Ness lets out a disbelieving breath, looking between the two of them. He slides a folder over to Dean before opening one in front of him. Addison peers over his shoulder. “Two bodies. A few days apart just a little over a month ago. One witness said that she saw an assailant light up red after sucking the life out a man.”

“Awesome.”

Ness frowns. “How does that fill you with awe? Look, Dean, this thing, it kills—”

“In threes,” Addison finishes.

“In threes.”

“Except that you already know that.”

“He’s two down. You two are coming with me. We’ve got to get this thing before it grabs the last one.”

“Okay, so, so, wait, uh…does — does this mean that we’re untouchables now,” Dean asks.

Ness stands up. “It means we got to get you two into some new clothes. You look like a couple of bindlestiffs.”

Dean frowns. ‘“Stiff you br - bn - what?”

“I’m going to go take care of the brass, then we’re leaving.”

They watch as Ness walks out of the interrogation room. “Oh my God,” Addison lets out. “Holy fucking shit. Eliot Ness is a hunter and we are working a case with him. How awesome is that, Dean?”

“Why in the hell did you grab me,” Dean asks, rounding on her. “If you hadn’t had—”

“I was gonna try and pull you off,” Addison snaps. “But next time I think a monster is gonna kill you, I’ll just let it kill you.”

Dean stares at her. “You were trying to save me.”

Addison sighs. “I lost my dad. And we lost Bobby. I’m not about to lose you or Sam. You idiots are all I’ve got left.”

Dean’s silent. He knew exactly where she was coming as he felt the same way about her and Sam. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking awesome that we get to work with Eliot Ness.”

* * *

They pull up in front of tailor’s shop and climb out. Addison can’t help but grin at the man wearing an army uniform walks past them. “I think after we finish this case, I need to do my patriotic duty,” Addison says, smirking. “You know, help in the war effort.”

Ness grabs their arms and pulls them into the shop. An woman in her fifties was standing behind a counter, measuring a pair of pants. “What’s the rumpus, Eliot,” she asks.

“Ezra Moore, this is Dean Winchester and Addison Sloan,” Ness introduces.

“Hey,” Dean awkwardly greets as Addison looks around the shop.

“Who are they? Some farmer clowns,” Ezra asks, eyebrow raised.

“They’re, uh, from the future,” Ness explains.

“Yeah. Gas costs four bucks. You can get cheese out of a spray can. The president is a black guy,” Dean states.

“And the Secretary of State was a woman,” Addison adds with a smile.

“Paint me impressed. I assume you need some clothes,” Ezra replies. She motions for them to follow her.

* * *

Dean steps out of the dressing room wearing a well fitting three-piece dark blue suit. His shirt was a crisp white shirt and he had a light blue tie. His hair was parted on the side instead of his usual style. He even wore a pair of brown leather dress shoes instead of his usual boots. A whistle causes him to turn and he sees Addison step out of a dressing room. Her hair fell in soft waves. She wore a dark green pinstripe jacket and skirt. The skirt hugged her hips before flaring out and ending right below her knees. A light green shirt, black Mary Jane heels, and bright red lipstick finished her look.

Dean notices a big mirror and walks over to him. “Awesome,” he says as Addison stands next to him. She held a small black clutch.

“‘Awesome,’” Ezra disbelieving repeats, smoothing down the back of Dean’s jacket. “You two some religious kooks?”

“No, he just likes saying that,” Ness states.

“So, spill already. What bucket of syrup did you two idjits step into?” Dean chuckles and Addison can’t help but smile. “Something funny, sweetheart?”

“No, you, uh, you just kind of remind me someone,” Dean explains.

“Okay, Ezra,” Ness begins, folding up the newspaper he had been reading. “We need your help. It seems we’re hunting a time traveler.”

Ezra nods. “Delightful.”

* * *

Ezra sets a large book on the table. After Dean and Addison explained everything they knew about the fedora man and what they had saw, she had disappeared into the back and come out with a book. “It’s the infinite hourglass,” Ezra tells them.

“That’s the symbol I saw on his ring,” Dean replies.

“Yeah, that’s the mark of Chronos.”

“Who?”

“Says he’s the God of time,” Addison explains, reading over the page. “You know, back in the day, Gods got their power from their worshippers or sacrifices. Now a days, not so much. I mean, they’re pretty much pissed since they have to be more hands on.”

Dean frowns as he shoves a flask inside in his jacket. “So, why’s he killing people?”

“Could be how he travels through time.”

“All right, well, how the hell are we gonna ride him back to 2013, Ads?”

“Well, you could let him grab one of you, if you don’t mind him using you for gasoline,” Ezra tells them, putting a gun inside of a shoulder holster.

“Look, let’s just stick with what we know,” Ness says. “Ezra, see if you can find something in all this junk that will kill a God.”

“No trouble at all. Come in a few hours, see what I can scrounge up.”

“You said you folks found his house? Well, let’s go see if it’s been built yet. And then let’s kill that bastard, because that—”

“Is the Chicago way,” Dean interrupts as he puts on a fedora.

“‘Chicago way,’” Ezra disbelievingly repeats.

“Who talks like that,” Ness questions.

Dean shifts. “Sean Connery.”

“Come on,” Ezra says, helping Dean put on a dark grey pea coat. She motions for Addison to come over and helps her into a tailored coat.

“I’ll never watch that movie again,” Dean mutters, grabbing the gun and holster off the counter. Addison shoots Ezra a smile before she and Dean follow Ness out of the shop.

“Please, you’ll end up watching it once we get back home,” Addison amusedly says.

* * *

Dean, Addison, and Ness pull up in front of the two story house. In 1944, the house looked more upped kept than it did in 2013. Dean glances through the window at the top of the door. “It looks empty,” he says. “You got a lock pick?”

“Sure,” Ness replies then kicks down the door.  He pulls out his gun and enters the house. Addison exchanges a look with Dean, who pulls out his own gun, before they follow Ness. “Take a look around. Where’s he getting all the lettuce to support this?”

They look around the living room. Dean picks up a journal off a desk and opens it. Dates of horse races and the winners were on the pages. “He’s using the ‘Biff strategy,’” Dean tells them.

Addison winkles her nose. “Seriously?”

“Using what,” Ness questions.

“Chronos. He’s betting on races that he already knows the outcome of.”

“Look at this,” Dean says and they join him.

“He’s spent a lot of time in ’44,” Ness states.

“Yeah.” Dean points to a pair of initials in the margin of the page. “What’s L.Y.?”

“It’s not a what. It’s a who. Lester Young. He lays bets for a lot of the flunkies in town. Let’s say we go pay him a visit.”

* * *

“That’s him,” Dean says, motioning to where Chronos was sitting in a diner. They were sitting in Ness’ car, after having interrogated Lester about Chronos, waiting to see if the god showed up. Addison was asleep in the backseat.

“Kind of puny for a god,” Ness comments, taking out a flask. He takes a swig and holds it out to Dean, who stares at it.

“Thought you were, uh, thought you were Mr. Boy Scout.”

“Why do you think I went after Capone in the first place? The guy had the best hooch in Chicago.”

“So, now, wh—who died in your life and made you a hunter?”

“Who died? Nobody died, you morbid son of a bitch. I started doing this cause vampires were turning folks in Cleveland.”

“And you got the bug.”

“That’s when I got the bug.” Ness takes another swig. “Sometimes you just want to punch through the red tape with a silver bullet. Yeah, hunting sets me free. Isn’t that why you hunt?”

“I used to do it cause that’s why my family did. But they just seem to keep dying. To tell you the truth,  I don’t know why I’m doing much anything anymore.”

“Boo hoo. Cry me a river, ya nancy. Tell me, are all hunters as soft as you in the future? Everybody loses everybody. And then one day, boom. Your number’s up, but at least you’re making a difference. So enjoy it while it lasts, kid, cause hunting’s the only clarity you’re gonna find in this life. And that makes you luckier than most.” Dean’s silent as they watch a young blonde woman walk out of the diner. “Hello, nurse.” They watch as Chronos walks out of the diner and goes in the direction that the blonde woman went.

Dean starts to climb out of the car when he notices Ness start to shake Addison. “Don’t bother. She won’t wake up. Sleeps like a fucking hibernating bear.” Ness shoots him a confused look, but leaves Addison asleep in the car. Ness opens the trunk of the car to reveal the weapons cache. “Sweet merciful awesome.” Ness hands Dean a shotgun, before grabbing one himself. They take off the down the alley that Chronos and the woman had went. They raise their guns as Chronos grabs the young woman. They exchange a confused look when Chronos and the woman kiss.

* * *

“So, Chronos has a girlfriend,” Addison states, leaning forward in her seat. She and Dean were waiting in Ness’ car while he was talking with someone inside a hay truck. “It’s like a real life Time Traveler’s Wife.” Dean shoots her a questioning look. “It’s a book. Which got turned into a Eric Bana movie.”

“Sounds like a chick flick movie,” Dean comments.

“It is a chick flick movie.”

“Well, everything’s coming up us,” Ness tells them, leaning down through the open window.

“Talk to me.”

Ness stares at him. “I am. The owner of the house, Miss Lila Taylor, age twenty, lives alone. Take the car, head back to Ezra, see what she’s got. I’m gonna stay here and keep my peepers on the Sheik and the Sheba.” Dean holds out the shotgun and Ness takes it before walking away. Addison climbs into the front passenger seat as Dean gets out and climbs into the drivers’ seat. The drive to Ezra’s shop is a silent one.

The moment they enter the shop, Ezra places a sharpened branch on the table. The sharpened end was covered in something that was a deep red. Dean glances at Addison. “That’s it?”

“That is a thousand year old olive carved by vestal virgins and dipped in the blood of…” Ezra shakes her head. “You don’t want to know. Pulling this together wasn’t easy. You two and Ness owe me, smoothie.”

“You can have whatever you want soon as we gank this thing,” Dean says, picking up and examining the branch.

“Yeah, yeah. Take your twig, wise guy.”

“Well, now, how’s it work?”

“I’m pretty sure you just point the pointed end in him. More than likely his heart,” Addison amusedly answers and he shoots her an annoyed look.

“I like you,” Ezra states and Addison smiles. “Miss, he has you for supper. Make sense?”

Addison shifts. “But if we kill Chronos, we’re stuck here.”

“You just now realized? Oh, come on. 1944 ain’t so bad.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, I could head over to Europe, punch Hitler in the neck.”

Ezra pats down the lapels of Dean’s coat. “There’s lots of way to pass the time, sugar.” She pulls him down and kisses him. “That’s for luck.” Addison rolls her eyes when the older woman runs a thumb over Dean’s lips. “Cause I’m lucky.”

“Thanks.”

Dean turns and wipes his mouth, spotting a pile of envelopes on the counter. “Back to the Future 3.” He turns to Ezra. “I need to borrow some paper.”

* * *

Addison looks up from the newspaper Ness had left in the car when the driver’s side door opens. She had stayed behind while Dean went to go put their message to Sam in the currently occupied house. “If we get stuck here—”

“We’re not getting stuck here, Ads,” Dean interrupts, starting the car.

“Except if we kill Chronos before he can takes us back.”

Dean stares at her. “You want to stay.”

“It’s not that bad here. I mean, we haven’t even been born yet. We can start over. We could make a fortune by investing in the right companies. We could change the future.”

“I tried that once and fucking angels windex my parent’s memories.”

“Do you think angels are going to give a shit if we stop JFK from being assassinated or I write Harry Potter before JK Rowling can?”

“Write Harry Potter? Seriously, that’s what you would do?”

Addison rolls her eyes. “Hermione should’ve been with Harry and Remus and Fred shouldn’t have died.”

Dean shakes his head as he starts the car. “Look, whatever shit you’ve been dealing with and don’t try to deny it, Addison. I know that you’re hiding something. You do nothing except sit and read those damn books Patrick left you. So whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together. But if you wanna stay, then stay. That’s your choice.” He reaches over and pulls out her iPhone. “I’m taking this with me.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s not like you’ll need it anymore.”

* * *

They pull up at the end of the driveway of Lilia’s house. Dean grabs a shotgun out of the backseat and climbs out of the car without saying a word to Addison. She watches as he walks down the dirt driveway. She sits there for a moment. “Damnit,” she mutters, climbing out of the car. She reaches Dean as he opens the front door. They quietly enter the house and spot light coming out from underneath a door. Dean reaches into his jacket to pull out gun, but is tackled from behind.

Dean and Chronos quickly stand up. Dean slams his fist into Chronos’ face and the god quickly retaliates, knocking Dean into an arm chair. Addison grabs an umbrella out of a stand by the door and slams the wood handle over Chronos’ back. Chronos moves to punch Addison. “Ethan!”

They turn to see a young blonde woman with Ness, who had a gun pointed at her. “Let’s talk,” Ness says.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Chronos begs.

“Ethan, what’s happening,” Lila asks, looking around the living room.

“Yeah, Ethan,” Dean says, standing up. “What the hell?”

Chronos holds out his hands. “Lila, I’m sorry, but you just — everything I said to you is true—”

Addison scoffs. “Did he tell you that he’s a monster who jumps through time?”

“I’m a god,” Chronos shouts, glaring at Addison. He turns back to Lila. “Look, I’m not a monster. Listen. I’m the opposite.”

“Well, don’t forget to tell her about all the people you murdered along the way, boy scout,” Ness adds.

Lila stares at Chronos, confusion written on her face. “What?”

“It’s not like that. I do it for you, Lila,” Chronos says.

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, he’s not as strong as he used to be. Isn’t that right, Ethan,” Dean says. “Now you gotta go out  to suck people dry. Wild guess — it takes three kills to juice you up.”

“Sacrifices,” Chronos clarifies. “Three sacrifices and I can control when and where I land. But once I get there, it’s never for long before I’m tossed through time again. That’s my life, Lila. And all I want is to get back here.”

“Because you just the clean Canton air,” Ness questions.

“Because I love her! Because I lived the worst existence you can imagine and then I found you.”

“After you killed Tyler Crosby and Cathy Porter? Lila here was gonna be victim number three. Am I right? Don’t act like you never killed a soul before you met her, pal. Something tells me you used to kill three saps just for a change of scenery.”

“Yes, I did.”

Chronos steps towards Ness and Lila. Ness cocks his gun. “Back down.”

“I used to wander, but now I have you.”

“I knew Cathy. She used to come into the diner every day,” Lila softly says. Chronos doesn’t see Dean reaching into his coat.

“Lila, please.”

“You are a monster.”

“No, Lila, please!”

Lila glances at Dean as he walks up behind Chronos. The god turns and punches Dean, knocking him to the floor. The stake flies out of his hand and Addison quickly dives to grab it. Chronos wraps a hand around Dean’s neck. A red light starts to emit from Chronos’ chest as he stands up. Addison runs over to them as the god wraps an arm around Dean’s neck and pulls him up. Addison grabs onto the back of the god, tightly gripping the stake.

The red light engulfs them and they stumble to the ground. Addison looks around, letting out a relived breath when she sees they’re in the living room of the house they were squatting in. “No,” Chronos screams, glaring at Dean. “You! Destroyed everything!”

“Hey,” Sam snaps, drawing the god’s attention. He goes to punch him, but Chronos easily blocks and sends Sam flying into the wall.

Addison pushes herself up and slams the stake into Chronos’ back. A light flickers from inside the god. She moves backwards as Chronos falls to his knees. “You want to know your future? I know your future,” Chronos says. “It’s covered in thick black ooze. It’s every where. They’re everywhere. Enjoy oblivion.” Chronos falls over and silence settles over the hunters.

* * *

Addison looks up when she hears footsteps. She was sitting on her sleeping bag, with the book she had been reading through on her lap. Dean holds up her iPhone as he walks towards her. “Figured you might want this back,” he says, tossing the phone onto the book.

“Thanks,” Addison replies, placing her phone next to her. She takes a deep breath. “You were right.”

Dean smirks and Addison rolls her eyes. “Just let me enjoy this moment. Actually, can you say it again?”

“You were right, you ass.” Addison shifts, closing the book. “Look, these books…they’re my dad’s journals. I found them when we were cleaning out my dad’s place. Everything he knew about the bloodline is in them. His own research and everything that Sarah has told him.”

“Let me guess, the bitch is lying,” Dean says, sitting down next to her.

“Sarah’s done a extremely good job at laying low over the past two thousand years. But my dad did managed to find references to the bloodline over the years. He didn’t exactly trust Sarah either. But…everything he found, there’s a mention of ‘natural protection.’ ‘The natural protection ends at thirty-three.’ ‘No more natural protection after thirty-three.’"

“Why thirty-three?”

“Because Jesus died when he was thirty-three. Sarah hasn’t been returning my calls or texts. I mean, I haven’t felt any different since my birthday last year.”

“Well, whatever it is has done a pretty shitty job so far.” Dean pulls the book out of her grasp. He tightly embraces her and she buries her face in his chest. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Ads.”


	14. The Slice Girls

“Morning,” Sam greets when Dean sits up in the passenger seat. It was one of the few times he was able to drive, even if it was their latest stolen car and not the Impala. Addison was stretched out in the back seat, asleep. She coughs and he watches as Dean glances at her with a concerned look. Sam frowns when he notices his older brother take out a familiar flask and takes a swig from it. “Is that Bobby’s? I didn’t know you kept that.”

“Yeah, mine sprung a leak,” Dean replies, taking another swig. He glances into the back seat, only to find Addison still asleep.

“You know, most people would just carry a — a photo or something for a memento.”

“Shut up, man. I’m — I’m — I’m honoring the guy, all right? This is, uh, grief therapy, kind of like you and your wild goose chase.”

Sam frowns. “Wild goose chase?”

Dean scoffs. “Yeah.”

“Four guys murdered in two weeks, hands and feet cut off.”

“Yeah, well, some guy with a foot fetish run amuck.”

“Grown men thrown so hard they went through walls.” Sam tosses a newspaper at his older brother “Did you — did you even read the article?”

“No, I was napping.”

“Well, anyway, what else you got going on? Dick Roman’s a dead end for now, you might as well—”

“Make sure Ads doesn’t die.”

Sam sighs. “She’s got the flu, man. Addison is going to be fine. She’s even said so herself.”

“Except Ads doesn’t get sick. She never has. And since Dick Roman’s a dead end for now, we need to figure out this bloodline—”

“Which is also a dead end, Dean,” Sam interrupts. “We’ve both gone through Patrick’s research and there’s nothing there. And Sarah isn’t returning any calls or texts. So, unless you know an angel that would actually help us, we’re at a dead end on that too.”

“Do the fucking case, Dean,” Addison mutters, loud enough for them to hear. She coughs and pulls the stolen motel room blanket closer. “You’re driving me insane. I’m fine. My birthday was three days ago and the only thing that’s happen is that I got the damn flu. So, do the fucking case.” Dean takes another swig from Bobby’s flask. Sam sighs, knowing that was the only thing he was gonna get out of his brother for the time being.

* * *

The boys watch as the local crime scene tech pulls out the drawer with the latest victim on it. A symbol was carved into his chest and his hands and feet has been expertly cut off. “The latest, but probably not the last,” the crime scene tech tells them. He looks between the boys. “You guys always work this late?”

“Hours suck,” Dean answers. “But, uh, great benefits package.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Ten percent co-pay on all drugs.”

“Seriously?” Dean nods. “Oh, but just generic, right?”

“No, no. Name brands are cool.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

Sam clears his throat. “So, what’s our boy here weigh?”

“Uh. A buck ninety. Thrown against a wall so hard it bucked. Based on the blood flow at the crime scene, the hands and feet were cut off while he was still alive, just like the others. The killer wanted him to suffer.”

“And all vics are male, right, with the same kind of, uh, artwork as this,” Dean questions.

“Yeah. Identical.”

Sam pulls out his cell phone and snaps a picture of the symbol. “So, uh, DNA left at any of the scenes?”

“All of them. One before this, the guy bit the attacker. Still had a chunk of flesh in his teeth when he came in. That’s about as good as it gets.”

Dean nods. “Right.”

“So, we have a match,” Sam asks.

The crime scene tech sighs. “We do not.” He hits a button on his computer and a window pops up. “The samples were rejected. The genetic markers don’t match anything we’ve ever seen.”

“Didn’t match any person in the database,” Dean asks.

“No, I mean they don’t match anything human.”

“Hmm.”

Sam nods. “Thank you.”

“I’ll admit it could be in the general vicinity of the ballpark of our kind of thing,” Dean says, as they walk out of the forensics’ office.

“Yeah, uh, ‘didn’t match anything human’ usually seals the deal for me,” Sam counters. “I don’t know, I’ve never seen this symbol before.” He touches Dean’s shoulder and his older brother looks at him. “Let’s get a bite to eat, go back to the motel, haul out the laptop.”

“That’s a great idea. Actually, that’s a brilliant idea. Here’s my counter. You do that, I’ll go undercover, go mingle amongst the locals and see, uh, what kind of class bubble to the surface.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re going to a bar.”

“Wow. If you want to oversimplify it.”

Sam sighs as his phone buzzes. He looks to find a text from Addison. He looks up to find Dean walking out the building.

* * *

Sam walks into the motel room and finds Addison hunched over her laptop with books spread out on the table. She had a blanket draped over her shoulders while she wore her old Yale sweatshirt and a pair of fleece pajama pants. “Please tell me you brought soup and NyQuil,” she asks, not bothering to look up.

“Along with plenty of ginger ale,” Sam replies, setting the back down on the table. “You should be resting, Ads.”

“It’s the flu,” Addison defends, grabbing the cold medicine out of the bag. She shoots him a smile. “Besides, I’m just doing research. Where’s Dean?”

Sam sighs. “Going undercover.”

Addison shakes her head in amusement. “Of course he is. At least I get the bed to myself tonight.” A silence settles over them. “This may be the copious amounts of NyQuil that I’ve taken it, but, um, why is that you and me never worked out?” He shoots her a confused look. “Like romantically? Cause you know how we…”

“I think we were just looking for some kind of comfort, Ads. Or an escape. And with everything that I was doing with Ruby, I wanted something normal.” He shifts. “You don’t have—”

“Oh, God, no,” Addison quickly interrupts. “No, no, no, no, no. I mean, I love you like a brother…minus the us sleeping together part.”

Sam laughs. “I feel the same way.”

Addison smiles. “So, what’d the medical examiner have to say?”

* * *

Sam shoots Addison a concerned look as they walk towards the police station. She had insisted on joining him to check out the latest victim’s crime scene. “I’m fine,” Addison tells him for the umpteenth time since they had left the motel. She wraps her arm around Sam’s arm. “And in case you haven’t been able to tell you mostly fit the victim profile. So, I’m not letting you go any where by yourself.”

Sam chuckles. “Fifty percent of the population of Seattle fits the victim profile, Ads.”

“Hot guys,” Addison corrects. “They were all incredibly good looking men. Which you are one of, Sammy. Well, except you’re not in your thirties. And I’m sure the victims have much more in common, but the cold medicine isn’t helping me on that front.”

“What the hell are you doing here,” Dean asks, joining Sam and Addison as they reach the building.

“You look like shit,” Addison counters, smirking.

“Yeah, well, I feel worse than I look. Which is more than I can say for you, Ads.” Dean turns to his younger brother. “I do recommend the Cobalt Room, but the way. Awesome night. Although I think I’m getting too old for this.”

“You mean manwhoring? Yeah, you are.”

“You did not take enough cold medicine this morning.” Sam shakes his head in disbelief at their bickering. “Did you, uh, figure out that symbol?”

“No. Um, we’re gonna need an expert,” Sam replies.

“Expert? Our expert’s dead. And Ads’ is currently stoned off of cold medicine. By the way, why the hell is she here?”

Addison rolls her eyes as she untangles from Sam. “Uh, to protect Sam. Cause he fits the victim profile of hot guys.”

They watch as she walks over to a police officer standing outside the building. Dean turns to Sam with a look of disbelief on his face. “Seriously?”

Sam shrugs. “She wanted to come and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

They flash their badges at the officer and walk into the apartment building. Upon entering the latest victim’s apartment on the fifth floor. Blood covered the floor, walls, and furniture in the apartment. The victim was lying on the floor. His hands and feet were cut off while the symbol was carved into his chest. “Well, nice decor. Very early slaughterhouse,” Dean says, looking around the living room.

“FBI,” the crime scene tech tells the blonde woman next to him.

Addison flashes her badge. “I’m with them,” she says, motioning to the boys.

“This is Charlene Penn. She’s the lead on the case,” the crime scene tech introduces.

“More of the same. No forced entry. Thrown across the room. Made to suffer. Both hands and feet cut off,” Charlene tells them.

“And the same symbol as the others,” Addison states.

“Whoever the killer is, the guy’s a monster,” the crime scene tech adds.

“Excuse me,” Charlene says, then walks out of the living room.

“This guy’s just like the last one. Early thirties, decent looking,” Dean questions. Sam glances around and watches as a man walks over to a police officer standing outside the apartment.

“Yeah. Just like the first three, you know? Fairly successful, no known enemies,” the crime scene tech tells them. “Here.” Dean and Addison follow the crime scene tech over to the kitchen while Sam walks over to the police officer.

“Excuse me. I got it,” Sam says, flashing his badge to the man. “How can I help you?”

“I was just trying to find out what happened,” the man replies. “Jerry was a friend.”

“I’m very sorry. Jerry was killed sometime last night. You live nearby?”

“Yeah. Two doors down.”

“You, uh, you know anyone who would want to harm Jerry?”

“No. He was the nicest guy in the world. Well, his — his wife wasn’t real happy with him.”

“Why’s that?”

“A few nights ago, he has a little one night fling. Ann found out, took off. But…she would never do anything like…” the neighbor trails off.

“Yeah, of course. Thanks.” The neighbor walks down the hallway and Sam turns as Dean walks over to him.

“Who was that,” Dean questions.

“Neighbor. Said the vic’s wife caught him cheating,” Sam explains.

“Yeah, but we’re not thinking it’s the wife.”

“Not unless she benches three-fifty and did the other guys as a warm up.”

Dean moves to take out his flask. “Shit. I left Bobby’s flask at Lydia’s.”

“Who’s Lydia,” Addison asks, walking over to the boys. They duck under the crime scene tape and walk out of the apartment.

“My workout partner from last night. Now, I’ve got to go get it.”

Addison scoffs as Dean pulls out his cell phone. “It’s a miracle, Sam. Dean actually knows the name of a one night stand. And he’s actually gonna call her.”

“Fuck off,” Dean snaps.

Addison laughs. “It’s so sweet. She even gave you her number.”

“They always give a number.” Dean hits the call button as Addison and Sam exchange an amused look. “Lydia. Hey, it’s, uh, Dean from last night. Uh, listen, I think I left something over at your place. It was an old flask. It doesn’t look like much, but it has sentimental value. So, uh, have you seen it? You want my number? Oh.” Dean hangs up and turns to Sam and Addison. “She’s real busy.”

“Mhmm,” Addison replies, pulling out of her iPhone. “Anyway, I’ve seen that symbol somewhere before. I just can’t remember where. Give me a few hours—”

“You’re going back to the motel,” Dean says, grabbing Addison’s phone. “And you’re gonna watch shitty daytime tv and not work on this case while we go find an expert who’s not stoned on cold medicine.”

“I’m fine,” Addison argues, reaching for her phone.

“No, you’re not.” Addison stares at him, anger written in her amber eyes. “Don’t give me that look. You’re sick. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Can I have my phone back so I can get an Uber to the motel,” Addison coldly demands.

“What the fuck is Uber?”

“Give me my phone, Dean!”

Sam sighs and steps forward. He never got in between them when they were fighting, but he noticed the local police watching them. “Look, Ads, we’ll take you back to the motel and you can research. No more crime scenes,” he says. Dean starts to open his mouth. “It’s just research, Dean. We’ll still go find an expert, but it can’t hurt to let Ads research. So, can we go before you two get us banned from any other crime scenes?” He motions to where the police were watching them.

* * *

Sam sets a cup of coffee down by Addison’s laptop as he listens to the ringing. He had returned to the motel room earlier and found her fast asleep, using one of Bobby’s books at a pillow. After putting her in his bed, which was the only space not covered in books, he had set to doing his own research. “Hey, where are you,” he asks once Dean answers his phone. “It’s a flask, not the Holy Grail.”

“Hey, man, I’m a people person, all right? I’m engaging in some social skills,” Dean replies. “By the way, how is the Holy Grail doing?”

Sam rolls his eyes and glances at Addison as lets out a loud snore. “Sleeping.”

“You get anything out of Morrison?”

Sam sighs. Professor Morrison was the expert he had found and they had visited earlier before Dean went to retrieve Bobby’s flask. “No. Not yet. Look, would you get back here? We’re due at the crime lab. Dean?”

“Hang on.”

“Hey, look, why don’t you just…” Sam trails off realizing that Dean wasn’t listening. “You there? Hello!”

“Let me call you back.” Sam sighs and shoves his phone in his pocket.

* * *

Addison frowns as she sits down at her laptop with a cup of tea. The files Sam had gotten from the police department about the other murders over the country were spread out in front of her. Sam had filled her in on everything that he had learned earlier that day. “So, what,” Sam asks, after Dean finishes explaining what he had seen earlier that day. “I mean, so maybe she has another kid she didn’t tell you about.”

“Nope, just the one. Emma,” Dean counters. “But that night, when I was with her, she didn’t have any. And I was at her place. There were no playpens, no blankets, no rubber ducks.”

“Like you would’ve actually noticed that stuff,” Addison amusedly says.

“Hey, that’s the first thing you notice. Red flags. Then, all of a sudden, boom — baby.”

“Yeah, the one that you thought talked,” Sam says.

“Oh, it talked. And not baby talk, either.”

“Now, you know so much about child development?”

“I know enough to know that they don’t say ‘Hey, Mom. Who’s that guy?’ So, cut to Lydia’s handing this kid, who’s calling her mommy, over to these two women, right? But this is not a baby. No, no, this kid’s got to be five. And same name — Emma.”

“You know, George Foreman named all his sons George,” Sam tells him.

Dean glares. “Are you deliberately messing with me?” Sam shrugs, shooting Addison an amused smile. “Dude, I know weird. Okay. There is no non-weird explanation for this. This morning, Emma was a baby. By sunset, she’s Hannah Montana. Early years.”

Sam’s cell phone rings. “It’s the Professor.”

“Oh. Good. The Professor. Yeah, I’m sure he’ll crack this wide open.”

Addison sifts through the papers and finds a copy of the symbol. “I remembered where I saw this symbol.” The boys exchange a surprised look and she rolls her eyes. “Anyway, it’s Ancient Greek.”

“And you just remembered this,” Dean questions.

“Yeah, it’s called being sick, dumbass. Do you wanna hear what I found or not?” Dean motions for her to continue. “Anyway, its associated with the Greek goddess Harmonia. Now, after Harmonia and Ares got their incest on because Greek gods slept with everyone they were related to. I mean, they didn’t care how they were related—”

“Ads!”

“Sorry. Ares and Harmonia hooking up created the Amazons.”

Sam frowns. “The Amazons?”

“Like Wonder Woman,” Dean questions.

“More like Wonder Woman while she’s still on the island Themyscria. And much less friendly to men. This symbol is used in worship to Harmonia. The legends of the Amazons go back forever. They had absolutely no use for men except to have babies.”

“All the vics were male,” Sam says and Addison nods. “And their hands and feet were cut off.”

“Yeah. See, the Amazons, after they got knocked up, they would kill their baby daddy by cutting off body parts. Now, that’s the normal stuff. I remembered that from my Ancient Greek class. There’s a completely crazy side to the lore.”

Dean pulls out Bobby’s flask and takes a swig. “How does this get more crazy?”

“Way back in the day, the Amazons were in a war and they lost big time. I mean, their population was decimated, so they make a deal with Harmonia to rebuild their population and make them stronger.”

“Well, I’d say throwing grown men through walls was stronger.”

“Uh, yeah. The Amazons basically became monsters.”

“Can you kill them like humans? Or is there some kind of trick?”

“Nothing I looked through says anything. My guess is since they lost so many people in a war with swords and arrows, you can kill them like a regular person.”

“What else,” Sam asks.

Addison takes a deep breath. “The lore says they reproduce within thirty-six hours. Amazonian babies grow super fast, then their aging process became normal. That’s how they were able to build up their population so fast in wars. And their mating cycle is every two years. All the women who are of child bearing age are sent out to help grow their ranks.”

“Which lines up cause this happens every couple of years in different towns, right,” Dean questions.

“And we know for sure that at least some of the vics hooked up with strange women days before being killed Amazon style,” Sam finishes.

“Hooked up in the same bar I met Lydia, right?” Addison nods. “And then suddenly, she’s got a little baby in like fruit-fly time. That baby turns into a little girl just as fast.”

“Wow. So maybe you’re, uh, you’re—”

“Don’t say it.”

Addison sighs. “Dean, if that kid is yours—”

“I said don’t say it!”

“Fine. We won’t,” Sam tells him. “But, Dean, dude, seriously, a one night stand, you’re just gonna roll the dice? You don’t even—”

“Of course not. Sam, what do you think I’m brain dead? Accidents happen. If one even did, which I-I-I don’t think…” Dean trails off and Addison rolls her eyes when he smiles. “No. You know what? We’re — stop. We’re not gonna talk about this anymore because my skin’s starting to crawl!”

“All right, fine. But if it’s true, if it happened…”

“I know. I got to hang on to my hands and feet,” Dean finishes, then takes a swig from the flask.

Addison crosses her arms over her chest as she turns to Dean. “So, what bullshit job did you tell Lydia that you did? Because all the victims were good looking and very successful. And you don’t fit the very successful part.”

Dean shifts. “Well, she may or may not have thought I was a rich investment banker.”

Addison and Sam exchange an exasperated look. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she says, standing up. “And after that I’m going to bed. Because I’m exhausted.”

Silence settles over the room as she walks into the bathroom. Dean takes a swig from his flask and turns. Some of the books that Addison had been looking through were spread out on the bed. He frowns, realizing that some of the papers on the bed had moved. And there was only a piece of paper sitting on top of a book. “Sam.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, looking up from the research Addison had done.

“These papers just moved.”

“What?”

“I didn’t touch them.”

Sam grabs the EMF meter out of his bag. He turns it on and the alarm immediately goes off. “It’s all over the place,” he says, walking around the room. The red lights on top stay lit up. “Redline. Redline. Oh, and power lines by the open window, where there’s a breeze that could have moved the papers.” He turns off the EMF meter and shoves it in his pocket.

“Did you feel a breeze?”

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. The readings are useless.”

Dean holds up the flask. “Hey. Maybe, uh…”

“We burned him, Dean.”

“So, what?”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know. What are you?”

“Concentrated on something else.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not Bobby!”

“Could be.”

“No, it couldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because we want it to be,” Sam snaps, grabbing the piece of paper off the bed.

“Maybe it’s useful.”

“It’s in a pile of ‘maybe it’s useful.’ Besides, it’s in Greek. Other than Ads, nobody reads Greek.”

“Yeah, except Greeks. Oh, and Bobby.”

Sam grabs his jacket and shrugs it on. “And Professor Morrison.”

“Really? Ads will be out of the shower in a few minutes. She’ll translate it.”

“Addison who just said she was exhausted,” Sam replies. “No. We’re gonna let her rest. I’m going to Professor Morrison’s, Dean. You stay here, keep the door locked. Don’t go anywhere. I mean it.”

“Fine.”

* * *

Dean looks up from Addison’s laptop when she sits down with a bowl of soup. Her wet hair was pulled into a messy bun while she wore a pair of sweatpants with one of his button down shirts. The glasses she rarely wore were perched on her face. He runs a hand over his face and turns his attention back to her laptop. “We need to do laundry.”

Addison sighs and pushes the bowl away. “You need to stop being so over protective, Dean. I’m fine.”

Dean shakes his head. “Ads.”

She stands up and moves around the table. She gently cups his face and forces him to meet her gaze. Her hands are cool against his skin. “I’m fine, Dean,” she softly tells him. “If I wasn’t, I would’ve said something.”

He closes her laptop and slides it back before standing up. Addison starts to move back, but he grasps her hips. Dean pulls her against his chest. His hands slide under the shirt she was wearing. She stares up at him. He leans down and brushes his lips against hers. A knock comes from the door and he pulls back. Dean picks up his gun and cocks it. A knock comes from the door once more and he starts towards it. Addison grabs his arm and shoots him a warning look. He presses a soft kiss to the top of her head, then walks over to the door.

Dean pauses for a moment, then takes off the chain and opens the door. A teenaged girl was standing in the hallway. She had dirty blonde hair and green eyes. “Hi. You don’t know me, but my name is Emma. I need your help. I think I’m in trouble and you’re the only person I can trust,” she tells him.

“Why,” Dean questions.

“Because you’re my father.”

“How’d you find me?”

“They’ve been watching you, ever since Mom got pregnant.”

“Well, if you’re such a prisoner, you mind telling me how you escaped?”

“I waited until lights out. The women who watch over us change shifts a little after 10:00.”

“Uh huh. And you left because…”

“They stick you in there and you trust them. It’s all you know. And you don’t question what they want you to do…terrible things. That’s why I had to leave. They tortured me.” Emma holds up her wrist and he sees the symbol branded on her wrist. “They told me I had to endure pain so I could be strong like them. But I don’t want to be like them.”

“Okay. Come on in.” Dean moves back and Emma walks into the room. Addison was still by the table and he knew she had her own gun hidden on her. He closes the door and puts the security chain back in place before tucking his gun in the back of his jeans. “Have a seat.” They watch as Emma sits down on Sam’s bed. “Okay. Let’s assume that you’re not like them. Yet. what do you want us to do?”

“Get me away from here. You’re a good man. My mother told me that.”

“I seriously doubt she said that. And if you knew me, you would seriously doubt it’s true.”

“They told me you’re a hunter. So maybe you’ll understand about me. Maybe you can protect me. Just long enough so I can get away. Then I’ll leave you alone. I know you don’t want me.”

“All right, let’s not go there, okay? This isn’t a matter of…” Dean trails off. He runs a hand over his face. “You get this isn’t a normal situation, right?”

“How would I know? Three days ago, I wasn’t even alive. Now here I am. My mother threw me into that place. And my father…well…you get this is my last chance to have anything normal ever, right?”

Dean sighs. “You look exhausted.”

“And starving. It’s been a tough sweet sixteen. So you believe me?” Dean crosses his arm and nods. “You’ll help me?”

“If you really want help.”

Addison steps forward. “What happens when they find out you’re gone?”

“They may have already found out. And they’ll hunt me down,” Emma tells them. “Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but if I’m gonna get out, I have to do it now.”

Dean walks over to the refrigerator and opens it. “We got cheese and a leftover burrito.”

Addison watches as Emma stands up. Her hand goes to the gun hidden in the back of her sweatpants when she sees a knife drop into Emma’s hand. “Doesn’t make a difference,” Emma calmly answers.

Dean close the refrigerator door and grabs his gun, aiming it at Emma. “You were asking if I believe you.”

“I was told you’d be a challenge,” Emma replies. She glances at Addison. “I didn’t know you’d have someone else here.”

“I figured you’d chat me up. Try and catch me off guard. Almost worked. I was expecting your mother.”

“It’s not her place. I have to kill you.”

“I knew I missed something,” Addison mutters.

“Is that what they told you,” Dean questions.

“It’s what I am,” Emma says.

“Well, then, I should just kill you right now.”

“Sure. But you could have done that thirty seconds ago.”

“It’s weirdly hard, isn’t it? It is for me.”

“Knock it off.”

“How could it not be? You’re my father.”

“Hey! We’re not gonna do that.”

“But it’s true. You’re the reason that we’re standing here. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you. So, now someone has to kill someone. You know what? So far, my childhood’s been kind of disappointing.”

“You haven’t killed anybody yet, Emma. Walk away. Right now. I won’t go after you.”

“I can’t. I don’t have a choice.” The door bursts open and Sam enters, gun drawn. Emma looks at him, then turns back to Dean. “Please, don’t let him hurt me.” Emma turns to Sam and he fires. She falls to the floor, a pool of blood slowly forming. The boys exchange a look.

Addison clears her throat. “You need go after the rest of them. Before they realize that Emma isn’t coming back.”

* * *

Addison tenses when she hears footsteps near her. Her hand goes to the back of her jeans and she lets out a relived breath upon seeing Sam. After the boys had discovered that the Amazons had vanished, they had quickly packed up and left Seattle. Somewhere between Seattle and Portland they had stopped to burn Emma’s body. They were currently stopped somewhere along the highway that ran along the coast of Oregon. Unable to sleep any longer, Addison had quietly climbed out of the car and was currently sitting on the beach. He doesn’t say anything as he sits down next to her.

She leans against him and he wraps an arm around her shoulders. “You’re sick,” Sam reminds. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I got a life size heater to keep me warm,” Addison amusedly tells him. She rests her head on his chest. Sam chuckles. “Dude, you are.”

“It was pretty amazing you managed to do all that research while you’re essentially living off of cold medicine, ginger ale, and soup.”

Addison shrugs. “I had a lot of free time.” She sighs. “I’m worried he’s gonna do something stupid.” Sam tightens his grip on her. He doesn’t reply, but presses a soft kiss against the top of her head as a silence settles over them.


	15. Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie

Dean rushes over to the ringing pay phone as Sam leaned against their latest car, looking through a newspaper. “Hello,” he asks, picking up the receiver. He rolls his eyes. “I am the egg man. Seriously, Frank, pay phones? Come on. I’m getting the clap off this thing just touching it. Fred Savage? Really? Yeah. No, I know. Big Mouths are everywhere.” Sam shoots Addison a smile as she hands him a cup of coffee. “Uh, well, since you asked, some actual intel on the Dick Roman guy would be nice. Fine. All right. Yeah, good looking out.” Dean slams the receiver down and squeezes out of the phone booth. “Hope he finds something quick. This whole protocol du jour thing’s creeping my cheese.”

“So we got dick on Dick,” Sam amusedly asks.

Dean stares at his younger brother. “That’s a vivid way of putting it. You find anything on Wonder Woman?”

“No. And there probably won’t be. They are definitely gone.”

Addison holds up a newspaper she had found in the rest stop building. “Well, this lovely headline suggests there could be something in Wichita.”

“All right, well, let’s do it. But, uh, a few simple rules, okay? No babies. In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze. No hot chicks of any kind.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam amusedly says. “Did you just say—”

“Hey, you spawn a monster baby, see how quick you want to dive back in the pool.” 

* * *

“Oh,” Dean says when the coroner uncovers the victim’s body. They had changed into their FBI suits before making their way to the local morgue. Large, round, red bruises were on the body. “Those are not the fun kind of hickeys.”

“You’re saying an octopus did this,” Sam questions.

“Not just any octopus,” the coroner replies. He grabs his clipboard and looks at his notes. “Based on welt diameter, Enteroctopus dofleini.”

The trio exchanges a look. “And for those of us who skipped the Enteroctopus class,” Dean asks.

“Giant Pacific Octopus.”

Addison frowns. “Exactly how big is that?”

“Approximately thirty feet.”

Sam scoffs. “I mean, aren’t giant octopi rare around here?”

“Yet here we are.”

“All right, so, what happens, guy comes home, cracks a beer and gets suckered to death,” Dean says.

“Obviously, this was some kind of freak fetish attack. Someone created those hickey marks, then bled the man out.” The coroner turns the victim’s head to real a bite mark on his neck.

The brothers exchange another look. “Thanks,” Sam says as they make their way out of the morgue.

“Bite look vampy to you,” Dean asks.

“Yeah, no question.”

“So, what are we looking for? An OctoVamp? Vamptopus?”

“That’s crazy even for us, right?”

Addison shakes her head, a smile on her face. “Well, let’s go talk to the widow. 

* * *

“We’re very sorry for your loss, ma’am,” Sam tells the widow, Mrs. Harper. They were sitting across from the woman in her living room. Addison shoots her a sympathetic smile as she drinks the coffee Mrs. Harper had given them.

“Mrs. Harper, we know this is, uh, bad timing,” Dean begins. “But we have a few routine questions we need to ask. Is that okay?”

Mrs. Harper nods. “Yeah.”

“Did the house feel any different lately,” Sam asks.

Mrs. Harper frowns in confusion. “Different…”

“Anything strange,” Dean clarifies. “Cold spots. Uh, did you smell anything weird? Maybe sulfury.”

“No. Not that I can remember.”

“Okay, we’re just ticking all the boxes here. Um, what about any skeletons in your husband’s closet?”

“Skeletons? What do you mean?”

“Can you think of anyone who would want to harm your husband,” Addison softly questions. “Maybe a colleague or an old flame?”

“The tiniest detail could really help,” Sam says, when Mrs. Harper hesitates.

“You wanna know what he was up to lately ask Stacey,” Mrs. Harper tells them. “She was here the night he died.”

“Um, Stacey?”

“Our nanny. Any other questions?”

“No, that’s, um, thank you,” Dean says as the boys stand up. “You’ve been a big help.”

Sam stops before they walk out. “Really appreciate the hospitality, ma’am.”

The trio walk out of the house. “Mom, Dad, nanny. Boy, that is a love triangle right out of Casa Erotica,” Dean lists. “Of course, in those, the jealous wife tends to channel her feelings more productively.”

Sam scoffs. “Only thing I can’t wrap my mind around is—”

“How in the hell did she summon an octovamp,” Addison finishes.

“More like why? Kind of impractical, right?”

“Yeah. All right, one of us needs to go talk to the naughty nanny, the other one shake down the place when the wife leaves, see what we’re dealing with,” Dean replies.

“All right. I’m on the nanny.”

“I’m on the nanny.”

“I thought you said no hot chicks.”

“We don’t know that she’s hot.”

“How about I talk to the nanny and you guys check out the house,” Addison says. Dean stares at her for a moment, then starts walking away. She shrugs and turns to Sam. “Well, guess we got—”

“Addison, move your ass,” Dean shouts.

Addison shoots Sam an exasperated look. “One of these days, I’m gonna shoot your brother.”

* * *

“Now, uh, how would you describe your relations with the deceased,” Dean asks the Harper’s nanny as they stand in the living room of the nanny’s apartment. She was a young woman in her earlier twenties.

“I don’t know. Normal, I guess,” Stacey replies.

Addison frowns. “Normal?”

“Well, I mostly dealt with Debra. There was nothing going on if that’s what you mean.”

Dean nods. “Debra said you were at the house late the night that, uh, Brian died.”

“Yeah. Brian was working late, so I stayed with Kelly. She was pretty upset.”

“Why was Kelly upset,” Addison questions.

“Well, it was her birthday. We had a party at Plucky’s.”

“Plucky’s,” Dean asks, exchange a look with Addison. “Why does that sound familiar?”

“Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie,” Stacey tells him. “Pizza chain for kids. Actually, more for lazy parents. Anyway, her dad showed up for five minutes, then he went back to work. And, of course, her mom was out of town. This stupid kid told Kelly her folks didn’t really love her. She freaked. I was calming her down for hours.”

“Did you notice anything weird at the house?”

“Weird like…”

“Anything,” Addison clarifies. “Like a bad feeling. Or it being too cold.”

Stacey shakes her head. “No, nothing like that. Actually, Kelly does have a weird thing about closets. But it’s just kid stuff.”

“Try us,” Dean tells her.

Stacey sighs. “She thinks there’s a monster in her closet. It drives everyone crazy.”

Addison nods. “Well, thank you for your time.” They walk out of the apartment and Dean pulls out his cell phone.

“Hey, we talked to the wrong person,” Dean greets, putting his phone on speaker.

“What,” Sam asks.

“Yeah, forget the mom. Talk to the daughter. She’s mad at her dad for ditching her birthday.”

“So, what do you guys think? A birthday wish gone wrong, something like that?”

“Maybe,” Addison asks. “I’ll start researching once we get back to the motel.’

“I got a twenty on her right now.”

“Can you get to her without tripping the Amber Alert,” Dean questions.

“I’ll try.”

“All right, see what you can find out.” Dean snaps his phone shut and turns to Addison. “You feeling okay?”

Addison rolls her eyes as they reach the elevator. “I’m fine. And if you ask me that one more time, I’m gonna punch you. In the dick.”

Dean nods, taking a step to his right. “Good.” They step into the elevator and she hits the button for the ground floor. A silence settles over them. He stands there for a moment, contemplating his next move. The elevator doors open and he watches Addison walk out.

* * *

Addison stares at the hole in back fence of a little league baseball field. She looks at Dean and finds that he appears just as perplexed as she was. “Hey, um, okay. So, the horse we get. The hoof prints, the jumping over the fence. But, uh, what ran him through,” Dean questions, turning the police officer.

“Best thing I could tell you is something big.”

Addison frowns. “Like a lance?”

The officer shrugs and they watch as a stretcher covered in a sheet is wheeled over to a ambulance. A  woman was standing by the ambulance, with a heartbroken look on her face. “It’s sad. Lady’s got to pull her frigging eight year old out of school and tell him his dad’s dead.”

“Excuse us.” Addison and Dean walk over to where the woman was standing. “Excuse me, ma’am? I’m Agent Smith, this Agent Jones. FBI.”

“I’m sorry. I — I really need to go,” the woman tells them.

“Okay. Uh, just one quick question, if you don’t mind. Um, was yesterday your son’s birthday,” Dean questions.

The woman frowns. “Billy’s birthday? No. Why would you ask that?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“Oh. But his father did take him to a friend’s birthday party yesterday.”

Dean exchanges a look with Addison as the woman walks away. He pulls out his phone as they head towards their latest car was parked. “Hey,” Sam greets.

“Hey. You remember a chain called Plucky Pennywhistle’s,” Dean asks.

“No,” Sam answers after a pause.

“Really? Could have swore you loved those places.”

“No, dude, I hated them. Uh, you would dump me and go trolling for chicks.”

“Nice,” Addison mutters, shaking her head in disbelief.

“It’s not like I left you in jail. I mean, those places are supposed to be fun.”

“Fun? Uh, they’re lame. And they smell like puke. And the ice is all grainy.”

“All right, don’t have one of your episodes, okay? I’m just saying we hit a dead end with this whole wishes gone wild thing, but both kids were at Plucky’s day of. Look, why don’t you go check out the local Plucky’s and ask about this Billy kid?”

“Look, man, why don’t I just…why don’t I just wait for you guys to get back?”

“No can do, Hermano. We’re on our way to talk to little Billy.”

“Why — why — why don’t I talk to Billy right now?”

“Sam, is this about your clown phobia,” Addison amusedly asks.

“What,” Sam exclaims. “No!”

“Sammy,” Dean laughs.

“No.”

Addison shakes her head. “What the hell did clowns do to you, Sam?”

“All right, you know what? Never mind. Just know that 99.99 percent of all clowns can’t hurt you. Okay? And if it bleeds you can kill it.”  Dean snaps his phone shut and Addison laughs.

* * *

Dean watches as Addison takes a bite of the Chinese takeout they had gotten after talking to Billy. The door opens and he looks up from his box of takeout to see Sam. “Hey. So, what’s the lowdown with trauma town,” Dean questions.

Sam shoots him an annoyed look and Dean can’t help but smile in response. “I can tell you this much. Neither vic was up for parent of the year. Kelly’s dad skipped her birthday and Billy’s dad pulled one of those dick parent scenes that makes everyone cringe,” Sam tells him.

Addison raises an eyebrow when Sam puts some paper place mats on the table. “What are these,” she asks, searching through them. Drawings of random things in crayon were on all the place mats.

“Kid therapy. Um, you draw your worst nightmare — poof! Plucky fixes it. Um, they hang them up on this big wall.”

Dean picks up one of the place mats. It had a drawing of a leprechaun with a pot of gold and a rainbow. “Well, can’t argue with this. Leprechauns are deadly. Okay, so, Kelly draws a monster, and then that goes after her father? That’s what we’re saying?”

“Well, here’s the thing. They label those. And guess which two were missing. Well, name tag was there — no place mat.”

“Little Miss Octovamp.”

“Yeah. And Billy. So, somehow, whatever he drew came to life and killed his dad, riding a horse.”

“Close, but no Seabiscuit. See, we went and had a little chat with Billy. And he drew us this.”

Dean pulls out a piece of paper with a drawing of a unicorn with a rainbow colored tail that was impaling a person with its horn. “Wait. So, now unicorns are evil,” Sam asks, looking between the two of them.

“Apparently,” Addison replies.

“Great. Well, now the question is, how did a unicorn come off a sketch and kill Billy’s dad? How’s any of this happening?”

* * *

The trio pulls up to the local Plucky Pennywhistle’s Magical Menagerie. Dean and Addison make their towards the building as a couple of EMTs walk out of the building with a stretcher. A sheet was over the body, with blood staining it. “Hold on one second there, guys,” Dean says, flashing his FBI badge.

Dean lifts up the sheet and Addison blinks. “Does that look like what I think it looks like,” she quietly asks.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then yes,” Dean replies, letting go of the sheet. He turns as Sam walks over. “So?”

“Manager found the body in the ball pit, blood everywhere,” Sam tells them.

“Do the cops have a theory,” Addison questions.

“Yeah. The ball washer did it.”

Dean smirks. “The what?”

“The ball washer.”

“The what?”

“The ball—” Sam cuts himself and glares at his older brother. He rolls his eyes seeing the amused look on Addison’s face.

Dean lifts up the sheet. “Look at this.” Sam deeply inhales at the sight. “Thank you, gentlemen.” The EMTs walk away with the stretcher. “That’s a shark bite.”

“Yeah.”

“And, uh, judging from the radius, I’d say a twenty footer at least.” Sam stares at him. “Shark Week, man. How do you not watch that?”

“Dude, Air Jaws is freaking crazy,” Addison adds.

Sam look between them, then starts walking away. “A whole week of sharks,” Dean tells him as they walk into the Plucky’s.

Nothing appeared to be out of normal in Plucky’s. As they investigate, the come upon the wall of drawings. Sam grabs a name tag under an empty spot. “‘Omar Cooper,’” he reads. “How much you wanna bet little Omar here was scared of sharks?”

“Then how the hell is the janitor connected,” Addison asks. “I mean, he’s not related to Omar.”

“No. But Saul had something he wanted to tell me.”

“So, this isn’t about banking some dickweed parent,” Dean questions.

“More like, uh, silencing a whistleblower.”

“Great. So, whatever we’re looking for can literally fire off childhood fears at will. Well, watch out for evil lunch ladies.”

Sam pulls out his EMF meter. “All right. Let’s comb this place.”

“Seriously,” Dean grumbles, pulling his own EMF meter. “Dractopus, Seabiscuit the Impaler, land shark. What’s next?”

“Gollum,” Addison amusedly replies.

* * *

“Maybe a tulpa,” Sam suggests, looking up from his laptop. He and Dean were sitting at the table in the motel room with a laptop and John’s journal in front of them respectfully. Addison was lounging on one of the beds, with her laptop.

“Killings are too spread out,” Addison counters.

“True. Um…angel?”

“It’s a little imaginative for the God squad, don’t you think,” Dean argues.

Sam sighs. “All right. So what?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m tapped out.”

“Same here,” Addison says.

“Well, whatever it is, at least we know where it is,” Sam tells them.

“Plucky’s,” Dean replies.

“That’s where the victims are getting picked up.”

“Yeah, but we swept the place last night and nada.”

“I can go back, grill the employees, maybe dig up some dirt.”

“What good’s that gonna do? They think you’re a fed. The one guy who was gonna rat, he’d got Bruce’d. Anybody knows anything, they’re not gonna tell you.”

“All right, yup, that’s the plan. I’ll go back, play bad cop, really lean into them.”

Addison frowns. “And?”

“And when I’m done, you guys watch them.”

“So, if somebody freaks out, then that’s our creep,” Dean finishes.

“Or he’ll lead us closer and you track him.”

“Well, what’s our cover?”

“I don’t know, just hang back. Act normal,” Sam tells them, then disappears into the bathroom.

Addison scoffs. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. A couple of people in their thirties hanging out at Plucky’s without a kid. That’s normal. That’s not pervy at all.”

* * *

Addison winkles her nose as she looks around the Plucky’s. “God, these places never change,” she quietly says to Dean. Kids were running around, while parents were barely paying any attention. They watch as Sam walks into a back room with the manager.

“Oh that’s right, you worked at one of these places when we were in high school,” Dean amusedly replies.

“I cleaned up way too much puke,” Addison says, shivering. A little girl with a giant slinky walks past them and Dean’s gaze goes wide. She laughs and they walk over to the prize redemption counter.

“Howdy, friends,” the employee greets.

“Giant slinky. Would’ve killed for one of those when I was kid. How much,” Dean asks.

“One thousand tickets.”

“American dinero.”

“Oh, we don’t take cash at Plucky Pennywhistle’s. Only tickets won through hard work and determination.”

Dean stares at the employee with disbelief. “You mainlined the Kool Aid?”

The employee laughs, but stops when he sees the look on Dean’s face. “It’s double ticket Tuesday if you play skee ball.”

Dean walks away and Addison shoots the employee a smile before following after him. “You’re seriously not gonna play skee ball all day, are you?”

“Giant slinky, Ads. Giant slinky.”

* * *

Addison grins as she folds up the tickets that the skee ball machine spits out. Sam was doing his bad cup routine with the employees while Dean would check their reaction after they left. And Addison had chosen to play skee ball. “Dean! Addison!” She turns to see Dean run out of the building. She runs out of the building just in time to see Dean tackle the kid wearing a lion suit.

“If this about the meth lab that fireballed up, it wasn’t me,” the kid tells them. “It was my brother, but we got the same fingerprints and…Please, this is the best job I ever had.”

Addison and Sam exchange a confused look. Dean frowns. “All right, look, uh…”

“Cliff.”

“Cliff. You’re not using kids’ nightmares to smoke people, are you, Cliff?”

“I don’t…think so.”

Dean glances at Sam, then stands up. “Get up,” he orders, jerking Cliff up.

“What’s going on?”

“All right, cards up. And we don’t care that you, uh, broke bad or whatever. But there is some seriously weird going on in there.”

“You mean in the subbasement.”

“This place has a subbasement,” Sam asks.

“Sure. Door’s out back. Easy to miss if you don’t know.”

“What’s down there,” Addison questions.

“Alls I know is me and Saul used to come in after hours sometimes and…” Cliff trails off, chuckling. “You ever shroom in a ball pit?” Cliff stops laughing at the unamused looks on the trio’s faces. “Not that I would, agents. It was Saul. Just Saul. All alone. Anyway, sometimes we’d heard, like spooky stuff through the vents. Coming up from the boiler room.”

The trio and Cliff walk back into the building. They stop as a young boy and his mother, a Plucky’s employee have an argument before leaving. Dean walks over to the table and rifles through the placemats on the table. “Dean, what? What is it,” Sam asks, walking over to his brother.

“While you were out being Dirty Harry and Ads was doing whatever, uh, Tyler’s mom got pissy with him, and now his placemat’s missing,” Dean tells them.

“So, what do you think?”

“I think that bitchy mom, plus, uh, sad kid, plus, uh, placemat with something nuts written on it equals wacky corpse.”

“So, you think she’s next on the list?” Dean shoots him a knowing look. “I’ll tail them, to be safe. You guys—”

“Check the boiler room,” Addison finishes.

They start to walk in different directions. “Dean,” Sam calls and they stop. “Uh, any idea what he drew?”

“Robot,” Dean answers.

Sam stares. “Robot?”

“About the size of a house. Shoots destruct-o-beams out of its eyes.”

“At least I’ll see it coming.”

“Yeah.”

* * *

That night, after Plucky’s had closed, Dean and Addison find the door to the subbasement. Dean easily picks the lock and they walk in. At first glance, there only appeared to be junk. But as they moved through the boiler room, they come upon a pot with a fire burning in it. “That’s not weird at all,” Addison mutters.

Photos of two young boys with a birthday cake was pinned to the wall, along with numerous children's’ drawings. In one of the photos, the decorations were proclaiming ‘Happy Birthday Howard.’ Dean finds a spell book, with three clown dolls sitting around it. He closes the book and finds the placemat with the drawing of robots shooting laser from it’s eyes. “Drop it.” They turn to find, Howard,  one of the Plucky’s employees standing behind them, with a gun aimed at them. “Drop it.” Dean and Addison each place their guns on the ground. “Now, kick it over.”

Dean kicks both of their guns towards him. “Some pretty heavy hoodoo you got here. I gotta say, as far as I know, none of these things, uh, could poop out a unicorn.”

“There’s power in fear. And when a child draws what he’s afraid of a little of that mojo ends up on the page.”

“So, what, you toss it in the fire and some bed wetter’s horror show comes to life?”

“I gotta get something off the parent too. Something they own. That bit gets tricky.”

“Well, it hasn’t seemed to slow you down.”

“I’m just doing what I need to!”

“Okay. Okay. We get it. Okay?” Dean grabs the book and tosses it at Howard. Addison grabs the drawing and rips it into two pieces. “No drawing, no Iron Giant!” Addison throws the drawing once more and drops the pieces on the ground.

“Oh, that b-word is still on the list. But not tonight. Bigger fish.”

“What, are you gonna shoot us, Howard? You really want a couple of bodies on your hands? Blood everywhere.”

“I’d shut up. Because I got lots of ways to take care of bullies. Don’t you worry. Like that FBI guy. He’s your pal, right? I saw you chase Cliff down. Five minutes ago, his business card was torched along with something from my personal collection.” Howard reaches behind him and grabs a hand full of placemats. “Yeah, I picked it out real special for him too. Soon as I saw him, I noticed. He was staring at every little Plucky like it was gonna stab him or something. Guy’s got a real thing about clowns.”

Addison picks up one of the clown dolls. “You know, these are really nice. Did you paint them yourself? This one looks like Plucky.”

“Plucky helps kids. It’s all I ever wanted to do. And when the management slot opened up, I…” Howard cuts himself off and Dean smirks. “But they passed me over.”

“Shocker,” Dean comments.

“I told them no cares more than me, but suits never listen. So, I’m doing it my way.”

“So, let me get this straight. You didn’t get the good parking space, so you start dropping bodies?”

“Those parents were horrible. They deserved what they got.”

“And what about Saul,” Addison questions.

“Saul had a big mouth!”

“Some guy hits on the babysitter, all of a sudden he’s the world’s worst dad?”

“A good parent puts his kids first.”

“A little girl watching her father get murdered by the monster in the closet is putting her first,” Addison disbelievingly asks.

“In the long run, they’ll all be better off.”

“You think so,” Dean asks. “Really?”

“I would have been.”

Dean turns to look at the children’s drawing on the wall. Both had figures that were underwater. He turns back to Howard. “So, your brother…what happened to him?”

“It’s not my fault! It’s theirs!”

“Looks to me like he drowned.”

“I was screaming. But my folks…they didn’t listen. They never listened.”

“It was an accident,” Addison softly tells him.

“They let him die!”

Dean grabs the drawing with a figure underwater with a bunch of fish. “I’ll bet you still have nightmares. In fact, I’ll bet you haven’t been in the water since.”

“Shut up!”

“Because you’re afraid.” Dean grabs the doll out of Addison’s hands and tosses it, along with the drawing into the fire.

“No,” Howard shouts. He starts towards the fire, but the fire shoots up. Howard shoots at Dean and Addison and they drop to the ground, grabbing their guns. They freeze when a young boy appears. He moves towards Howard. “It wasn’t my fault. I’m sorry.”

Dean stands up and helps Addison up. They watch as the boy reaches Howard and goes for his gun. Howard falls to his knees and coughs before spitting out water. Water spews from Howard’s mouth, then he collapses on the floor.

* * *

Dean watches as Addison pulls her hair into a messy bun. He turns when he hears a car pull up and watches as Sam climbs out. He takes a few steps towards his younger brother. Addison bites her lip upon seeing the younger Winchester covered in glitter. Sam makes a circle with his finger. “Let’s roll.” He sees the amused looks on their faces and holds up his arms. “Go ahead. Say it.”

Addison and Dean burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” Dean laughs. “You look like you got attacked by some PCP crazed strippers.”

“One of them sprayed me with seltzer from his flower.”

“Seriously,” Addison amusedly asks and Dean laughs louder. She raises an eyebrow at the amused look on Sam’s face. “What?”

“Nothing. Carry on.”

“Oh. That’s…Sam…I’m sorry for psychologically scarring you,” Dean says.

“Which time?”

“Shut up. Seriously. You know me — me ditching you when we were kids, that was a dick move. You know, the whole clown thing—”

“You know what, man? Honestly…getting my ass kicked by those jugglos tonight was, uh, it was therapeutic.”

Addison smiles. “You faced your fear.”

“Exactly. And now what else could a clown possibly every do to me? I feel good.”

Dean laughs. “Well, congrats.”

“By the way, to celebrate…”

“What?” Dean looks at Addison as Sam walks over to his car. Sam takes out a giant slinky. “No!”

“Yes.”

“Did you win this,” Dean questions as he takes the giant slinky from Sam.

“We earned that.”

Dean bursts out laughing. “Hey. We got you a little something, too, actually.” Addison reaches into the car and pulls out a clown doll. She tosses it to Sam and laughs when he shudders. He glares as he holds it up. “What? You said you were over it. You can think of it as a, uh, clown phobia sobriety chip.”

Addison amusedly shakes her head as they climb into the car. Sam snaps the head off the clown and throws it out the window before they drive off.


	16. Repo Man

_Addison turns when Sam opens the front door of the abandoned house they were holed up in. Nora Havelock was at the front door. She was in her late thrities. She had long brown hair and a kind face. “Ms. Havelock,” Sam greets. “You shouldn’t have come.”_

_Nora walks past Sam. “I needed to see it for myself. After all that tracking, all those hours we spent. I mean, it’s one thing to study them in books, its…”_

_Addison sighs. “Anything it says, ignore it. It’s just trying to get under your skin,” she softly tells Nora. The older woman nods and they walk over towards the living room. Dean was sharping a knife while the demon was tied up to a chair inside a devil’s trap._

_“Do I smell menopause,” the demon taunts. He head turns sharply. “Well, if it isn’t the Wiccan bitch of the west. Ms. Havelock. I know you’re the on that helped them find me.”_

_“My god,” Nora mutters, seeing the covered corpse on the dining room table._

_“Not in time to save our big girl here, but still. You get a merit badge.”_

_Nora walks towards the demon. “They caught you, you son of a bitch. No more murders. You’re going back to Hell.”_

_“Oh, Nora. Nora, I’m gonna scoop you out like a pumpkin, you know that?” The demon’s eyes flash back and its growls as it lunges at Nora._

_Nora shrieks and runs out of the house. The demon laughs and Dean steps forward. “Yeah, your, uh, scooping days are over, Gomer. All you gotta worry about now is us.” Addison walks over to the window and watches as Nora’s station wagon speed off. “You ain’t the first demon we’ve tracked down on this safari.”_

_“That’s right,” Sam says. “I think you put us over half a dozen.”_

_“Looking for Lilith in all the wrong places,” the demon replies._

_“Yeah, you’re gonna help us with that,” Dean tells it, picking up a knife._

_“If things are about to get messy, maybe you should meet the owner of this fleshy temple. A puppy of a man. You’ll like him.” The demon drops its head and grunts._

_Sam takes a cautious step forward. “Jeffrey? Jeffrey? Is that you?”_

_Jeffrey takes a shuddering breath. “Oh, God. No. You have to stop him.”_

_“We will. We’re going to, okay? We’re gonna send that demon back to Hell.”_

_“Okay.” Jeffrey looks up at Dean. “Please, don’t hurt me.”_

_“Jeffrey, before we can let him go…Look, the demon knows where we can find more of his kind, okay?”_

_“See, we’re, uh, hunting them,” Dean says. “All of them. He’s not gonna give up his rolodex easy. Jeffrey, we’re gonna have to cut in to him. That means you.”_

_Addison closes her eyes when Jeffrey sobs. “The things he made me do to those women,” Jeffrey cries. “Whatever you have to do, you have to do it. Please. Just stop this evil piece of—” He grunts, then coldly chuckles. “And on and on and on. Frankly, he can get tedious with this whole good and evil thing.”_

_“You know, you were right. I like Jeffrey. He’s a decent guy. Fact, he just signed off on his temple.” Dean grabs a flask of holy water and pours it over the knife. He slashes the demon’s arm and it’s skin sizzles. Addison slips out of house. The boys spend hours, interrogating the demon. When they walk out of the house, half carrying half dragging an unconscious Jeffrey, Addison closes her laptop and climbs into the front seat of the Impala._

_Silence settles over Dean and Addison as they drive to the nearest hospital. A groaning comes from the backseat and Addison turns. “Jeffrey, are you awake,” she softly asks. He coughs in response.  
_ __  
“Hey. You passed out. You’re in shock,” Dean tells him.

_“He’s gone,” Jeffrey murmurs._

_“We exorcised him.”_

_“Jeffrey, try to stay still, okay,” Addison says. “We’re almost at the hospital.”_

_“Your brother?”_

_“My brother stayed back, clean us out of that crime scene,” Dean explains. “There’s no reason to go down for a demon’s murder, you know what I mean?”_

_A short while later, they pull up the emergency entrance of a hospital. “Take it easy,” Addison says, as she and Dean help Jeffrey climb out of the backseat. “Careful.” Jeffrey is covered in his blood. Cuts on his faces and arms. “Can you make it from here?”_

_Jeffrey nods as Addison takes a step back. “Okay. Jeffery, no demon talk in the ER,” Dean tells him. “You understand me? You were mugged.”_

_Jeffrey nods once more. “Okay.” Dean opens the door and they climb in before speeding off._

_“Think he’s gonna be okay,” Addison quietly asks._

_“Lifetime of therapy. But I think he’s gonna be fine,” Dean replies, glancing at her. “Ads, it sucks. Okay. But that demon isn’t gonna kill anymore people and we got a lead on Lilith.”_

_Addison wipes away a tear. “I know.”_

Addison stares as they walk into the motel room. She drops her duffle bag on the dresser and looks around. “Is the same room we had last time we were here,” she asks. Sam chuckles as he places his bags on the closes bed.

Dean’s phone rings and he pulls it out. “‘Classified server,’” he reads, turning to them. “That’s gotta be Deveraux, right?”

“I swear if he says Thor is a damn leviathan now…” Addison shakes her head.

Dean opens his phone. “Hello? Thank god. Frank. Frank, what do you got for me?” Sam rifles through his bag and pulls out the police scanner, which Dean immediately grabs out of his hand. “Frank, you’re breaking up.”

“We need to do laundry,” Addison says. Sam pulls out the various case files out of his bag and spreads them out on the bed. She frowns when he presses on the scar on his hand. She places a hand on his arm.

“What do you mean you can’t find him? It’s Dick Roman. Turn on CNN. You see him at that, uh, press conference in Phoenix? The bastard’s everywhere. You’re sure? No, I — I don’t care that they’ve infiltrated the luxury boat industry, Frank. Great. Call Kanye.”

Dean snaps his phone shut in anger. “Frank’s still stumped on Roman,” Sam asks his older brother.

“Yeah. All right. Let’s do this.”

“Okay. Um, so look at the victim profiles. Same age, same hair color, body type. Ritual mutilations line up exactly.”

“Who down there would’ve let our demon out of the can? He squealed on his superiors. We made sure of that. I mean, he should be down under until, uh, trumpet day.”

“Two women killed in the past two weeks with the same parts missing,” Addison counters. “Same hunting grounds. Everything is the same, Dean.”

“All right. We can take a swing at it. But you both know it’s all about the leviathans now. Okay? They’re the ones we need to be hunting.”

“Yeah. But, no. I mean, not right now. This one’s ours, Dean,” Sam replies. “It’s unfinished business, apparently.”

“All right.”

* * *

The trio flashes their badges as they walk up to the latest crime scene. “Every time we do this, I wonder if today’s the day,” Dean says, shoving his badge back in his jacket pocket. “We walk up, flash our tin to a bunch of chompers pretending to be policemen.”

“I hear you,” Sam agrees.

“Thought you guys might show up,” the detective greets, walking up behind them. He slams a hand Sam’s shoulder and the younger Winchester jumps. “It’s the drummer boys. Agents, uh, Bonham, Watts, and Wilson, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“It’s good to see you again, Detective Sutton,” Addison greets, shaking his hand. “Through I wish it was under different circumstances.”

Detective Sutton nods. “Sad to say, case looks to be open again.”

“Are you sure,” Dean asks.

Detective Sutton walks over to the SUV. “Same tools, same cuts, same crazy. Makes sense. I mean, we didn’t catch the critter last time, did we?”

“And no suspects,” Addison questions. Flies were flying around the corpse. A sheet covered the body. Broken glass and blood covered in the interior of the SUV.

“Same as before. Very thorough. Cold blooded.”

“Thank you, detective.”

“Anytime.”

Addison takes a careful step towards the SUV. “You guys see this?”

Sam reaches out and touches the yellow substance. He takes a whiff. “Sulfur.”

“Damn it,” Dean mutters. “Better go check on Havelock.”

* * *

“This is it,” Nora says, letting the trio into her Wiccan shop. The trio looks around the shop. A large banner advertising her website, hung on the wall. The shelves were filled with different candles and a variety of herbs. Her work station was in the center of the room.

“Wiccansweb dot com,” Sam reads.

“Internet mail order,” Nora replies. “White magic only. Herbs and talismans.”

“You sure about that?”

Nora opens a set of double doors and walks into a office. A devil’s trap was painted on the floor. “Uh, careful, it’s still drying. I have a friend at the sheriff’s office. I know about all the new murders. I’m doing what I can to protect myself. I’m also translating some very old banishments.”

The trio carefully steps around the paint. Nora holds out some papers and Sam takes them. “Wow. Uh, these are good.”

“Thanks. I’ve got an affinity. But back then, that night, in that farmhouse? I was in over my head. I know that now, believe me. I’ll leave that to the pros.”

“You helped track it down. It was some solid legwork,” Dean reminds her.

“What it came down to all I really knew was somebody who knew somebody who knew the right number to call. And your number is not working, by the way.”

“Right. Uh, we’ve had some technical difficulties. Phone issues,” Sam explains.

“It’s a monster problem, really,” Dean adds.

Sam and Addison shoot Dean unamused looks. “So, Nora, you haven’t had any contact yet,” Addison questions.

“With the demon,” Nora asks. “No, thank god. I have one or two things to finish in town, and then I’m leaving.”

“Good choice,” Dean tells her.

“Have you found Jeffrey yet?”

“Who?”

“The man who the demon possessed. The one you almost beat to death.”

“Yeah. Jeffrey. That poor bastard.”

“Some demons tend to be sentimental, don’t they? Always go back to the same host if they can.”

Sam turns to Dean. “It’s a start.”

* * *

Addison sighs when the boys let go of a very obvious human Jeffrey. He hadn’t been hard to track down as he lived in a local halfway house. “Jeffrey, it’s okay,” she softly tells him, holding up her hands. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, shoving the demon killing knife in his coat. “We just had to make sure.”

“Make sure of what,” Jeffrey disbelievingly asks, looking between the three of the. “That I peed my pants today?” A whimpering causes them to look down to see a dog with a plastic cone. “Aw, you scared my dog.”

“Uh, we did not wanna do that,” Sam replies.

“Listen, Jeff. We gotta, uh, talk,” Dean tells him. Jeffrey leads them up to his room in the halfway house. Dean looks around the small room. There was a bed and a couch under the windows. A desk was in the corner. “Well, this is, uh…”

“I know what it is,” Jeffrey interrupts as Addison sits down next to him. The boys sit across from them on the bed.  
“Look, I know it must’ve been, um, hard,” Sam begins.

“What do you guys want from me?”

“Jeffrey, we think that the demon that possessed you is back,” Addison tells him.

“What? What do you mean? You exorcised him, right? He’s supposed to be in Hell,” Jeffrey anxiously says, standing up.

“Jeffrey, look, please, just calm down. Just have a seat. Please,” Sam says.

Jeffrey slowly sits down. “I don’t understand.”

“Three more women have been murdered over the past two weeks,” Dean says.

Jeffrey shakes his head. “No. No.”

“Same vic profiles, same forensics, crime scene dusted with sulfur. We’ve gotta assume that it’s him.”

“But we’re here now, okay,” Sam adds. “So, if he comes after you, we’ll nail him, like we did last time.

“What was her name,” Jeffrey asks.

“What,” Dean questions, confused.

“The last one he killed.”

“Anna Paxton,” Addison answers.

“Marjorie Willis. She’s the next one on the list.”

“What list?”

“The demon used to recite it all the time. Like a grocery list. He burned it in my head, the names of all the women he was going to kill.”

Sam frowns. “He already had his victims chosen?”

“And put in a line, in an order.”

“Wait,” Dean says. “Why? Demons aren’t usually into the obsessive serial killer crap. You know, they’re more just kind of all around evil. Why would he do this?”

“He said it was his job.” There’s a knock at the door and Jeffrey motions for them to be quiet as he walks over.

“So, what do you think,” Sam asks, watching Jeffrey deal with the halfway house employee.

“I think we really helped mess this poor son of a bitch up,” Dean replies. “Look at him, he’s got a state assigned dad.”

Jeffrey closes the door and the trio stands up. “Uh, Jeffrey, look, I’m gonna go, uh, I’m gonna go find Marjorie Willis, keep her on watch. Okay,” Sam says.

“Don’t worry. Ads and I, we’re gonna stay here,” Dean tells him. “Just in case.”

* * *

“When you guys left me at the ER, I had three smashed fingers, five teeth out, a broken wrist, nose, cheekbone, collarbone. I had to get a hundred and sixty stitches,” Jeffrey recalls. He and Addison were sitting on the couch with the dog between them while Dean sat on the couch arm behind Addison. “Mugged. The doctor on duty said it looked like I got caught in the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Yeah, and we’re the good guys,” Dean reminds him.  Addison just shoots Jeffrey an sad smile.

“They patched me up, mostly, but I lost my job, my health insurance. I just started to drink and drift and I got lost. Had some kind of mental break. And I started to talk. About what happened.”

“Oh, man. Never tell. Never, never.”

“I know that now. Believe me.”

“So, let me guess. Drunk tank to psych eval to seventy-two hour forced hold to a nice long stay at an institution of their choice.”

“Yes.”

“It’s happened to friends of ours.”

“And for a long time I didn’t care. The truth was more important than where I was. I was in no shape to cope with the outside world.”

“But you got out,” Addison says, scratching the dog behind its ears. “You’re putting your life back together.”

“And now the demon is back.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, man,” Dean tells him. “I mean it. About all of it. You know?”

“You saved my life. I owe you for it. I know that. I owe a lot of people for getting even this far. I…crap.”

“What,” Addison questions.

“If he isn’t already circling the next woman, Marjorie, then I - I think I might know where he is. He had this special place. Where he kept souvenirs. Where he nested.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this,” Dean asks.

“I didn’t wanna go.”

“Jeffrey, you don’t have to do,” Addison tells him. “We’ll take care of it.”

“I do. I have to.”

* * *

Addison frowns as they pull up to an abandoned warehouse. Dean pulls out his cell phone. “Damn it. No service. Ads?” She reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out her iPhone. She shakes her head upon seeing that she had no service.

“Good girl,” Jeffrey says, petting his dog. “You stay.” He sets a bag of beef jerky on the seat. “Here’s some jerky. Stay.”

“That thing’s not gonna pee in here, is it,” Dean asks him.

“Um, I don’t know.”

Addison shakes her head when Dean rolls his eyes. They climb out of the car and look at the abounded warehouse. “So, he’d get you this far, then he’d shut your lights out?”

“For some reason he’s very secretive about this,” Jeffrey replies. “But after a while, he’d only really sort of cover my eyes when we walked in.”

“Think you can get us in there,” Addison asks. Jeffrey nods and places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Dean breaks open the door and they walk in.

“Red door, down the hallway,” Jeffrey tells them.

Addison shines her flashlight down the hallway and finds the red door. “I see it.”

They move down the hallway, silently. The only noise came from mice running around. Dean takes out the knife as Addison slowly opens the door. Jeffrey opens his eyes. “This must be it.”

They walk into the room and find the windows covered in a variety of symbols. Dean pushes Jeffrey over into a corner. “All right, stay over here. Okay? Just stay here. Don’t move,” he orders.

“Dean,” Addison says, walking over to where a young man was chained to a chair. Tape was over his mouth. She places two fingers on his neck and looks at Dean. “He’s still alive.”

Dean puts his flashlight and knife on the ground before getting to work on freeing the man. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The man’s eyes open and he starts to struggle against the chains. “Hey, we’re not gonna hurt you,” Addison tells him. “You gotta stay still through.” Neither of the notice Jeffrey walk up behind them. He stabs syringes into the necks and they fall to the floor.

* * *

Dean groans as he opens his eyes. He spies Addison sitting in a chair a few feet in front of him. Her head was slumped against her chest. He tries moving his arms, but finds them tied behind his back. He looks to his left and finds the young man chained to the chair next him. Jeffrey was kneeling next to where his dog was drinking out of a bowl. “Jeffrey,” Dean loudly says.

“Good. You’re up,” Jeffrey replies, standing up.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

“No one asked you to get involved. To save me. To save anyone.” He walks over to Addison and runs a hand through her hair.

Dean frowns. “What?”

“Did you ever think that maybe I loved being possessed? Did you,” Jeffrey asks. He moves over to table with a large bowl on it and starts to drag it towards the center of the room. “I loved the connection, the power, and I loved him. Love of my life, actually.”

Dean closes his eyes in realization. “Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“He liberated me.” Jeffrey pours lighter fluid into the bowl with charcoal. “Started me on my true life mission.”

“So, you’re the one with the thing for all those women, aren’t you, Jeffrey? You’re a serial killer.”

“I was nothing before he found me. A shadow. Too scared to do what I was brought here to do too timid to live up to my true potential.” He lights a match and drops it in the bowl. A bright blue flame flares up before dying down.

“So, what happened? Redheaded mommy make you stuff birds and put on dresses?”

“You shouldn’t trivialize other people’s pain. Especially when your girlfriend is now next on my list.”

Dean clenches his fist. “So, demon comes along, rides co-pilot in your skull, teaches you how to kill. The list, that’s yours.”

“For years, it was just a game I would play. Every time I’d walk by one of them in the street or see one on my mail route. There’s a sound that comes from their brains, you know that?” He walks over to Addison and grabs a fist full of her hair, then yanks her head back. “Only I can hear it. Like an evil little steam whistle. Every time I saw one, I’d follow her, take down her address.” He releases Addison’s hair and walks over to the table, where he picks up Dean’s knife. “But I was never gonna do anything. Not till he came along. He’s the one who saved me. And you sent him to Hell.” Jeffrey grabs a small bowl and moves over to Dean. He places the bowl on the ground and slices Dean’s arm, allowing the blood to drip into it. “I like to think I know you pretty well.”

Dean grunts. “Yeah. How do you figure?”

“I watched you torture an innocent man to get a demon. Pretty charged situation. Revealing. You guys talked about a lot. Showed a lot of character. God, you were so desperate to fix the world back then. It kills you that people keep getting hurt and you just can’t stop it.” He stands up, with the bowl in hand and walks back over to the table. “Or I should say it’s killed you, shouldn’t I?”

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“Hey. I was there. I was depressed, Dean,” Jeffrey says, putting the bloodied knife into a jar and stiffing the contents. “Because he was gone. I was a wreck, an emotional shell, a drunk. I was suicidal.”

“I don’t usually endorse suicide, but, man, what stopped you?”

“It was Alan. At the house.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“He’s a really good rehab therapist. Really helped me focus on my goals, my attitude. I have to say, I really benefitted from the whole program. A life well lived comes from the strutted pursuit of meaningful happiness. I realized I was nothing without my demon. Then I decided I have to get him back.” Jeffrey picks up the bowl and takes out the knife of the jar. “Uh, I’ll be right back.”

Dean watches as Jeffrey walks away, getting his dog to follow him. He can see the shadows of Jeffrey killing his dog. He rakes the ropes around his wrist against the back of the chair. “No. Oh, you sick son of a bitch.” A groan gets his attention and he turns to see Addison looking around in confusion.

“What’s going on,” Addison asks.

Jeffrey walks back over with the bowl and bloodied knife. He sets the bowl on top of the coals and pours Dean’s blood into it. He picks up a piece of paper and reads the incantation off of it. The room starts to shake. Jeffrey holds up his arms as he finishes chanting. Then everything stills.

Suddenly, the young man next to Dean breaks the chains around him and stands up. His eyes are jet black and he rips off the tape. “Hello, Jeffrey,” the demon greets. The demon turns to Dean. “Dean Winchester and Addison Sloan, as I live and breath again.”  The demon walks over to Jeffrey and tightly embraces him.

“Oh! What are you doing,” Jeffrey asks.

“I’m thank you, Jeffrey,” the demon replies, dancing around the room with Jeffrey.

“What are you doing with this half dead piece of crap? Come into me.”

“We had a very special time together, didn’t we, Jeffrey? It warms my heart to see you haven’t forgotten what I taught you. You built on it. You captured a Winchester and his girlfriend. You, Jeffrey, my pupil.”

“I don’t want to be your pupil. I want to be yours.”

The demon stops dancing and releases Jeffrey. “But I’m done with you. My work is finished. You can do everything now, all on your beautiful own.”

“No.”

“No?” Jeffrey shakes his head and the demon slaps him, knocking him down. The demon kneels down to Jeffrey. “We don’t do ‘no.’ Remember, Jeffrey.”

Dean tugs at the ropes around his wrists. “Keep sawing away at your ropes, Penelope Pitsop. We can dance standing up if you want.”

“So, is that what you do,” Dean mocks. “Find postal workers, make ‘em go postal?”

“I’m a talent scout. That’s all. Looking for the next generation of superstars. Before they get to Hell. Like Jeffrey here.” The demon kneels down and places a hand on his chest. “He had all the raw material. Just bubbling in there. All I had to do was loosen the lid on his jar, show him some practical know how.”

“Yeah, what about the kid?”

“This one,” the demon asks, standing up. “I don’t think so. Not much to work with. No natural gift. I’ll probably burn this meat off on my way to Vegas.” The demon turns around and finds Sam standing behind him. Sam slams the butt of a shotgun in the demon’s face. Dean breaks the ropes around his wrists and stands up as the demon sends Sam flying across the room. Sam stands up and the demon starts towards him. It suddenly stops and looks up to find a devil’s trap painted on the ceiling. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Nora walks up. “You let go of my son,” she angrily says.

The demon laughs. “Where do you keep coming from?”

Dean moves over to Addison. He kneels down behind her chair and starts undoing the ropes around her wrists.  Jeffrey stands up and grabs the knife off of the floor. “Dean,” Addison says. He stands up, pulling out his gun. He fires two shots and Jeffrey falls to the floor. A pool of blood slowly forming around him.

Nora starts reciting an exorcism. “He’ll be back, you know,” the demon taunts. “Back in black.”

Dean gets the ropes off of Addison’s hands and helps her stand up. “Go to hell,” he says, wrapping an arm around Addison’s waist and pulling her against his side. Nora finishes the exorcism and black smoke files out of her son’s mouth.

* * *

Addison groans as she walks out of the motel bathroom. Sam was sitting at the table with his laptop in front of him. Dean was still asleep, still wearing the clothes from earlier. She had changed into one of Dean’s button shirts and a pair of shorts. She sees Sam rub the scar on his hand and walks over to him. She grabs his hand and squeezes. “You’re seeing him again, aren’t you,” she softly asks.

Sam lets out a breath. “Yeah.”

“Tell him I said fuck off.”

He keeps his gaze on her. He was doing everything he could to ignore the fact that Lucifer was standing behind her. He tightly squeezes Addison’s hand. “I don’t even think Dean would repeat what he’s saying right now.”

Addison frowns. “About me?” He shifts, but doesn’t let go of her hand. Realization crosses her face. “Oh. I’m slightly creeped out.” Sam forces a smile, but she can tell he’s distracted by Lucifer. She tightly embraces him. “Sam, we’re gonna fix this. I promise.”


	17. Out With the Old

Addison watches as Dean paces around the end of the snowy pier. He was on the phone, arguing with Frank. She turns when Sam walks up, carrying two cups of coffee and a newspaper tucked under his arm. “Thank you,“ she softly says, taking one of the cups.

“He’s a crazy son of a bitch,” Dean says, joining them.

“Frank,” Sam asks.

“You know, having a cranky total paranoid as your go to guy — that’s — it’s…I don’t know what it is.” He frowns noticing the cup of coffee in Sam’s hand. “What? Are you going for, like the Guinness record of caffeine consumption? That’s like your fifth this morning.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, well, every time I close my eyes, Lucifer is yelling into my head. It’s like I let him in once, now I can’t get rid of him.”

“You know he’s not actually…”

“Yeah. Yeah, no. I know. Uh, try telling that to the volume control inside my brain.”

“Well, did you try the hand thing?”

“Yeah.”

Addison rubs his arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out. I’ve been researching. I’ll find something soon.”

Sam shoots her a thankful smile. “Anyway, long as I’m awake, check it out,” he says, handing Dean the newspaper. Addison raises an eyebrow, seeing the headline. “They’re saying drugs, but read between the lines. Sounds like she danced her own feet off. Might be our kind of thing.”

“Dancers,” Dean states. “They are toe shoes full of crazy.”

“You — and you would know this how?”

“I saw Black Swan. Twice.” Sam stares at his older brother. “Hot tutu on tutu action? Come on, Sam. What’s wrong with you?”

Addison scoffs. “Of course that’s why you watched it.”

Sam shakes his head. “Anyway, it’s in Portland, a couple hours away. What do you think?”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, dancers. Why not? Maybe you’ll get some sleep on the way.”

Sam sighs. “Yeah, maybe.”

* * *

“So, the usual. No EMF, no sulfur, no hex junk,” Sam says as they walk into the local police station. They had spent the morning interview the dancers and the janitor that had found the victim’s body. They hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary at the studio.

“If there’s no more dancers to interview on this trip it could be a bust,” Dean replies. “Although I hear they had good coffee in Portland.”

“That’s Seattle,” Addison corrects. She ignores the look Dean sends her. “Let’s just get this over with. I wanna hit the doughnut shops.”

They walk up to a desk where a couple of cops were talking. Sam raises a hand to let the officers know they were there, but they’re brushed off. One of the cops walks away and they move up to the counter. “Yeah,” the officer asks.

“Uh, we’d like to see the crime scene photos from the Irena Koganzon case, please,” Sam says.

“And you would be?” They pull out their badges. “Give me a minute.”

“Take your time,” Dean tells him as the officer walks off. Addison shoots him a look. “Don’t give me that look.” She rolls her eyes. “Just because you’re PMSing don’t me you have to extra bitchy.”

Addison smiles as the officer drops a file on the counter. She opens the file and starts looking through the crime scene photos. She holds up the phone of the dancer with blood spatters in place of her feet. “It’s got a Jackson Pollock vibe going on,” she says.

Dean stops at a picture of a pair of ballet shoes. In the photo, they didn’t have a drop of blood on them. “Yeah, I’d call that weird.”

“Excuse me,” Addison calls out. The officer looks at her. “Where’s the evidence locker?”

“Down the hall,” the officer tells them.

They make their way down the hallway and through a set of double doors. Another officer was standing behind a counter. “Hey, there,” Sam greets. They flash their badges at the officer. “How you doing?”

“Okay,” the officer answers, looking between them. “What can I do for you?”

“We need to see the shoes that were involved in the ballet dancer’s death.”

“Didn’t figure that would be an FBI deal. But sure, yeah, right here.” The officer turns and lets out an annoyed breath. “Damn it, Tracy.”

“Who’s Tracy,” Dean questions.

“My daughter. She loves ballet.”

“Any idea where she might be,” Addison asks.

“She went to the bathroom. Look, Tracy wouldn’t leave the building. She knows better than that.”

Addison shoots him a smile as the boys run off to nearest women’s bathroom. “Hey, take those shoes off,” Sam orders as Addison slips in behind them. Tracy was sitting on the floor, with the ballet shoes on her feet. Tracy’s pulled up and spins in a circle. Sam picks up Tracy. “Dean, get the shoes.”

Tracy’s feet kick out, doing everything possible to avoid Dean. “I’m trying,” Dean snaps. Addison grabs hold of Tracy’s legs and Dean starts trying to pull the shoes off. Tracy’s foot kicks Dean in the face and Addison tightens her grip on the girl’s leg. He manages to get the ribbons loose when she kicks him once more. Finally, Dean manages to yank the shoes off of Tracy’s feet and they fall to the floor.

“I’m going with cursed object,” Sam says.

Dean stares at him. “You think?”

“Tracy, are you okay,” Addison asks the young girl. Tracy nods and runs out of the bathroom. Addison pulls out a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket and carefully takes the shoes from Dean. “Well, looks like our next stop is Out with the Old.”

“I supposed it’s too much to hope that these shoes are the only thing in that store we have to worry about,” Sam asks as they walk out of the bathroom.

“Oh, what a dreamer you are,” Dean tells him.

* * *

They pull up down the block from the antique store. Addison had put the ballet shoes in an old shopping bag and shoved it in the trunk before they had left the police station. Currently, through, the ballet shoes were sitting on the seat next to her. “Guys,” she says.

The boys turn around and stare. “Didn’t we put those in the trunk,” Dean asks.

Sam stares. “How did they—”

“Cursed object, Sam.”

“Um, these look like they’re about your size, Dean,” Addison points out.

“Shut up.”

“Wait,” Sam begins. “Are you—”

“Getting the urge to Prince Siegfried myself into oblivion? Yes.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “You really did watch Black Swan.” Dean nods and climbs out of the car. She sighs and carefully picks up the shoes before climbing out of the car. Dean stares at the shoes and she moves away from him.

They walk down the block to the antique store. “Hello,” Sam calls out as they enter the store. They find a man mopping up in the area near the counter. “Hey, did you sale these?”

The man stares at the ballet shoes. “Uh, yeah.”

“Where did you get them?”

“Um, my mother had them in that box.” The man motions to a wooden box sitting on the counter. Sam walks over to it and opens it. Two indents in silk cloth showed where the shoes belonged. “I don’t understand. What’s happening?”

Sam picks up the box and examines. Carvings were on the top. “This, in here?”

Dean reaches for the ballet shoes. Addison moves away him. He had a dreamy look in his eyes. “Sam,” she says, taking another step away from Dean. Sam walks back over to her, box in hand. Addison quickly drops the ballet shoes in the box and he slams it shut. “You okay there, Baryshnikov?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m pas de done,” Dean tells them.

“Okay. If it’s not too much trouble, do you mind telling me, uh, what’s going on,” the man asks, looking between the three of them.

The trio pulls out their badges and flashes them. “What’s your name,” Sam asks.

“Uh, Scott Freeman.”

“Okay. Now, you said these were your mother’s? Where’d she get ‘em?”

“I don’t know. I found them in the back,” Scott explains.

“I got it,” Dean tells them, then walks off.

“Now, where is your mother,” Sam demands.

“She, uh, passed away last week,” Scott replies.

“Our condolences for your loss,” Addison tells him. “Listen, Scott, these shoes…”

“Just some personal stuff she collected. I’m trying to get rid of it all.”

Addison sighs. “There’s more stuff like the shoes?”

“Sam, Ads,” Dean says, walking into the room with two empty wooden boxes.

“Scott, what was in those boxes,” Sam questions.

Scott frowns. “Okay, what the hell kind of FBI guys are you?”

“The kind that are trying to fix the mess you started,” Dean answers. “Now where’d your mom get these?”

“I don’t know. I found them in her safe.”

“Did it ever occur to you that these things might be locked in that safe for a reason,” Sam tells him.

“No, I — I just thought it was some of the junk that had collected over the years. Like, I knew she was into weird stuff, but I never thought she would be, like—”

“Yeah, well, think again, okay? Cause this ‘junk’ is killing people,” Dean interrupts.

“What? How can that be?”

“Scott, we need to know exactly what you sold from the safe. We’re gonna need names and addresses,” Addison tells Scott.

* * *

“All right, what do we got,” Dean asks as they climb out of the car. Scott had given the names and addresses of the three people who had brought stuff out of the safe. Addison raises an eyebrow as she looks up at the suburban home.

“She brought a tea kettle,” Sam replies.

“Tea kettle?”

“If there’s enough curse mojo, you can turn anything into weapon,” Addison reminds him.

“Good times.” They walk up to the house. Addison knocks on the door, but when there’s no response, Dean picks the lock. They enter the house and upon reaching the kitchen, find an iron tea kettle on the floor next to a body. Dean grabs a pair of rubber gloves and picks up the tea kettle. “Better call this in.”

Sam pulls out his phone. “Hello, yeah,” he says into his phone. “I’d like to report an accident at 23 Gorham Road. My name? Uh, Bruce Hornsby.”

“All right. Who’s next on the list,” Dean asks as they walk out of the house.

Sam pulls out a small notebook out of his pocket. “We got a, uh, gramophone sold to Brenda Gluck, 413 River Street. And a vintage gentlemen’s magazine sold to Peter Yankit, 27 Johnson Lane.”

“All right, we’d better split up. Why don’t you and Ads take the gramophone? I’ll handle the old rag.”

“Just make sure not to actually touch it,” Addison tells him. “Remember the shoes?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?” He sets the kettle in the back seat of the car. “You know, I wonder how old porn kills you.”

“Pretty sure you don’t want to know,” Sam replies.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. All right. Let’s do this.”

Addison shakes her head as she and Sam walk down the street. She shoots him a concerned look. “Are you okay, Sam,” she softly asks him.

“I’m…” Sam trails off. “Exhausted. He’s singing show tunes now.”

Addison winces. “Well, we’ll get this gramophone and go load up on Redbull.”

They find the house. After hearing faint music playing through the front door, Sam kicks open the door. They rush in just as a boy had raised a butcher knife at the back of a woman sitting on the couch. The woman screams as Sam grabs the kid and wrestles the knife out of his hand. “Where’s the gramophone,” Sam demands.

The woman points to a den and Addison rushes over. She pulls on the latex gloves and picks up the gramophone. “Hey,” the boy complains. “That’s mine.”

“I think this the perfect time for you to learn a lesson in gratitude. Especially since we just stopped you from killing your mother,” Addison says, picking up the gramophone. She fishes out her badge and flashes it at the woman. “FBI. This is evidence in an ongoing investigation and we’re taking it back.”

Addison walks out of the house with Sam right behind her. His phone rings and she watches as he fishes it out. “Hey,” Sam greets, putting his phone on speaker.

“Hey. Got the porn. Just in time too,” Dean tells them.

“What was he doing?”

“Uh, like you said, you don’t want to know. Where you guys at?”

“We just got the gramophone. We’re across town, we’ll head your way.”

* * *

Addison glances at a squished up Sam sitting next to her as they speed along the dark highway in a pickup truck. She had refused to let him drive, reminding him that it had been a few days since he had slept. The gramophone was in a wooden box, sitting on the seat in between them. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Sam shift in the seat. His knees were against his chest. “You haven’t slept in like three days, Sam,” she says. “I’m not dying in a car accident.”

“Ads, I can drive,” Sam replies, fighting off a yawn.

“Uh huh and I’m Princess Leia.” Addison’s phone starts ringing and she pulls it out of her coat pocket. “We’re our way, Dean.”

“Yeah, not sure we’re taking the safe out of town just yet,” Dean replies.

Addison sighs. “Okay.”

“So, it turns out that mama hoarder didn’t just die and leave the store to Scott.”

“She didn’t?”

“No, listen to this. The lady spent forty years trying to keep that place, right? Then one day she wakes up and sells. Next day, drives her car off a cliff.”

“You think somebody cut her brakes or something?”

“No, I think the world is full of hilarious coincidences, Ads. Oh, and there’s this new company — never even tasted real estate, just gobbled up a huge chunk of Main Street. Now, I could be off the deep end here, but doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

“I admit, it’s a little weird.”

“How’s Sam?”

“Annoyed because I wouldn’t let him drive.”

“You know they say that, uh, sleep deprivation is an ‘enhanced interrogation technique,’” Sam tells them.

“Yeah,” Addison softly replies.

“Trust me, it’s torture.”

“There’s a cafe on main street, Ads,” Dean says. “Meet me there.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Addison tells him, then hangs up phone and drops it on top of the box.

“We need to stop,” Sam says. She glances at him. “I need to hit the head and stretch my legs.”

* * *

After stopping at the antique store to put the gramophone in the safe, Sam and Addison make their way down the street to the cafe. “Um, how’s it going,” Sam questions as he and Addison sit down at the table with Dean.

“I just got off the phone with Frank,” Dean tells them. “Apparently, we have a bit of a leviathan issue in this town.”

Addison raises an eyebrow. “Leviathans here?”

“Yeah. We’re looking at a big, old giant nesting doll of Dick, as far as property sales go.” Sam sighs and looks out the window. “Hey, you hearing me?”

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, you know what? Enough with the insomnia shit. All right, Pacino? You need to crash. Ads and I’ll keep working. You find a motel and get some sleep. Okay.”

“It doesn’t matter what I do, Dean. Lucifer will not shut up.”

“Even now?”

“He’s singing Stairway to Heaven right now.”

“Good song.”

“Not fifty times in a row,” Sam counters. Addison winces in sympathy as his phone rings. “Hey, Scott.” Addison reaches for Dean’s cup of coffee, but he picks it up and glares. “We’re on our way.”

“Let me guess. He touched something he was not supposed to,” Dean asks as Sam hangs up.

“Of course he did.”

* * *

After quickly making their way down the street to the antique store, the trio rushes into the store. They quickly stop upon seeing two realtors and Scott duct taped to a chair. “So much for the cursed mirror,” Dean says.

“Sam, Dean, and Addison,” the woman greets, with a wide smile. “It is such a pleasure to make your acquaintances. Now, just so you can put names to the faces that’ll be eating you I’m Joyce and this is my assistant George.”

“Wait. You’re the lady from the real estate signs.”

“Yes. You like my photo?”

Joyce throws her head back and grins. “Ah, you might wanna lay off the whitening strips,” Dean tells her.

Joyce laughs. “Oh, Dean. I am gonna enjoy picking you out of my teeth.” She opens her mouth, showing off a mouthful of sharp teeth. The leviathans lunge for them. Joyce tosses Dean into a bookcase while George tackles Sam. Addison moves to go help Scott, when her head is yanked back. She turns and slams her fist into Joyce’s face. The leviathan grabs her and throws her into a display case. Addison slowly pushes herself up as Sam slices off Joyce’s head with a sword.

After releasing Scott from the duct tape, Dean grabs Joyce’s head and shoves it in a bag before placing both in the safe. “Scott, it’s not safe for you here anymore,” Addison tells him. “You need to pack a bag and get far away from here. These things are gonna come for you. They killed your mom and tons of other people in this city. You need to leave.”

“Okay, I get that these things mean business, you know but I can’t just, like, uproot my life,” Scott argues.

“Sure, you can. It’s not as hard as you think,” Dean says, slamming the safe shut.

“Look, Scott, these big mouths don’t like to leave loose ends,” Sam says as they join him. He was still holding the sword he had gotten out of a display with George standing in the corner.

“So, don’t you look back until you get some place where you don’t speak the language.”

“All right, I’m going,” Scott finally agrees. “Thank you, I guess.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sam tells him as Scott walks out of the store. George starts to walk towards Joyce’s body. “One minute. That’s how long you have to explain to us why you helped us.”

“Because I am dying to know what that bitch tastes like,” George answers.

Addison blinks. “You want to eat your boss?”

“You got a better way to make her stay dead?”

“So, what, so now you’re on our side or something,” Sam questions.

“Yeah. No. But if Joyce is alive then I spend the rest of my life cleaning her messes. Or worse, I get eaten. Or bibbed. So, thanks for chopping her head off for me. Taking her on solo? Yikes. So, really, thanks for the assist there. And, of course, you’re welcome.” George looks at Dean. “For saving you. Before she ripped into your ass like a Christmas present. Win win, right? So, uh, how about that head?”

The boys exchange a look. “Yeah, not gonna happen, Georgie,” Dean replies. Sam holds the sword up to the leviathan’s throat. “Now, what the hell is Dick Roman building in Wisconsin?”

“I don’t know. I barely know where Wisconsin is. I’m a west coast representative.”

“Are you gonna keep killing people if they don’t sell their stores,” Addison asks.

“All right, take it easy,” George says, gently pushing the sword away. He touches the black goo and licks his finger. “Killing people isn’t part of the agenda. Joyce just kept getting impatient. You got nothing worry about with me. Don’t you get it? You guys are freaking out about the wrong thing.”

“Oh, you think,” Dean questions.

“A couple of real estate deals? Come on. Big picture, guys. You think it’s just here? It’s everywhere. And it’s a lot more ambitious than this little project. My advice, keep your heads down, and stay down.”

“Listen to me, you gooey son of a bitch, you’re gonna tell us what you’re building here or I’m gonna wash your mouth out with soap.”

George glances at the bucket of industrial cleaner. “Well, I was hoping we could play nice. But if you must know it’s going to be a research center.”

“Research for what?”

“Disease. This is where we are going to cure cancer.”

“Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, why would Dick Roman wanna cure cancer,” Sam asks.

“Because we’re only here to help.”

* * *

Addison yawns as she climbs out of the pickup truck. The fact that leviathans wanted to find a cure for many of the world’s diseases hadn’t set easy with any of them. “We should’ve gotten a bigger truck,” she murmurs, stretching.

“Hey, Frank,” Dean shouts, walking up to the RV. He bangs a fist on the door. “Deveraux!” He looks at them when Frank doesn’t come to the door. Dean bangs on the door once more. “What the fuck is he doing in there? Frank!” He shakes his head and starts to open the door. “Don’t shoot! We’re coming in!

Dean opens the door and they slowly enter the RV. Addison covers her mouth. The place was a mess. Blood was everywhere. Computers were broken. There was no trace of Frank anywhere.

“Not good.”


	18. The Born Again Identity

“You can’t just barge in here without an appointment,” the nurse says as Dean barges into the office. Addison shoots the nurse an apologetic smile. A balding middle aged man sat behind a desk. As soon as the hospital had called Dean, they both were in their latest car to go find Sam.

“They said ‘talk to Kadinsky.’ You Kadinsky,” Dean asks, ignoring the nurse.

“You need to be scheduled.”

“Well, then, schedule me,” Dean snaps. “He was in a car crash. Why the hell can’t we see him?”

“You’re Sam Smith’s family,” Kadinsky asks.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“It’s fine. Thank you,” Kadinsky tells the nurse. She shoots him a skeptically look. “Really.” The nurse glares at Dean as she walks out of the office. “Sam was admitted. He was treated for a broken rib and lacerations.”

“Well, that’s not too bad,” Addison says. “But that doesn’t explain why we can’t see him?”

“He’s on our locked psychiatric floor.”

Dean and Addison exchange a surprised look. “Well, I mean, he’s had some trouble—” Dean begins.

“So, you’re both aware that Sam is experiencing a full blown psychotic episode?”

“Psychotic? Come on. I mean, the guy’s…it’s not like the guy’s freaking Norman Bates.”

“I’m sure he isn’t. We need to determine whether his state was brought on by the insomnia or whether the insomnia is a symptom of his condition. Do you understand? So we can figure out how to treat him.”

“Well, all I can say is that the, uh, sleep thing is kind of new.”

Kadinsky sighs. “Right. Well, we’ve pumped him about as full of sedatives as we safely can. So far, he won’t go under. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Addison glances at Dean. “Doctor, can we see him?”

“Follow me.” Kadinsky leads them through locked ward. He stops out side a room and they can see Sam sitting on a bed. He looked worse than the last time either of them had seen him. He was wearing the white pajamas that all the patients wore.

Addison enters the room and tightly embraces Sam as Dean quietly closes the door. “How are you feeling,” she asks, sitting on his bed.

“Maybe you should cancel my UFC fight,” Sam replies.

“Sam, we’re gonna find you help,” Dean says, sitting down next to Addison.

“I don’t think it’s out there, Dean.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We know better than most. It’s all snake oil. Last faith healer we hooked up with had a reaper on a leash. Remember.”

“Yeah, Sam, I remember.”

“I’m just saying…”

“What? That you don’t want my help?”

“No, I’m just saying…don’t do this to yourself. Either of you.”

“Sam, if I don’t find something—”

“Then I’ll die.” Dean shakes his head and stands up. “Dean, we knew this was coming.”

“No.”

“When you put my soul back…”

“No.”

“Cas warned you about all the crap it would—”

“Fuck Cas,” Dean angrily snaps. “Quit being Dalai fucking Yoda about this, okay? Get pissed!”

Sam tiredly sighs. “I’m too tired. This is what happens when you throw a soul into Lucifer’s dog bowl. And you think there’s just gonna be some cure out there?”

Addison watches as Dean nods and walks out of the room. She hugs Sam once more. She presses a soft kiss against his cheek, then slips out of the room.

* * *

Addison yawns as she walks upstairs, clutching the heavy book. The past few days, her and Dean had been holed up in Rufus’ cabin, searching for anyway to help Sam. Dean had been calling every contact that he could find in John’s journal and that he found in Bobby’s journals. Addison had called everyone of Patrick’s contacts and had spent her time going through his books. “I think I might have found something,” she says, setting the heavy book on the coffee table. Beer cans fall to the floor. “It’s a transference spell. It would essentially take away everything Sam’s going through. I mean, we already have everything to cast it.”

“What’s the catch,” Dean asks, sitting down next to her.

Addison shifts. “Well, if I got the translation right, since we would be transferring it from Sam it would have to go into another person. It’s a sacrifice.”

Dean shakes his head. “No.”

“Dean—”

“No, Addison. We’re not sacrificing some innocent sap to be subjected to Lucifer.”

Addison takes a deep breath. “Or we put Lucifer in my head.”

Dean stares at her. “No.”

“Sam’s soul spent a year and a half locked up with Lucifer. A year of that is my fault. Because I didn’t call—”

“It doesn’t matter how long his soul spent in that damn cage, Addison. Sam would still be in the same damn position as he is in now. It’s fucking Lucifer. I’m not letting you put Lucifer in your head. We’ll find another way to save Sam.”

Addison sighs and picks up the book before standing. “Back to the drawing board.”

* * *

Dean runs a hand over his face as he scrolls down the website he had randomly found while researching. He glances over at where Addison was sitting at the table, eating a bowl of soup and looking through another book. They had barely talked since he had shot down her idea. His phone rings and he automatically picks it up. “This is Dean,” he answers, closing the website.

“Mackey,” a voice replies back. “Calling you back. Hey. Real sorry about Bobby.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Look, what you called about…I might have something for you.” Dean perks up. “There’s this guy. He goes by Emmanuel. He kind of roams. First started hearing about him a couple of months back. How he was healing the sick, curing the crazy.”

“Uh huh.”

“Naturally, I think something in the milk ain’t clean. Find this sucker, punch his clock. Right?”

“Right.”

“Heard the best way to get to him is through his wife, Daphne, out in Colorado? So, I go. Tell her I’m going blind. It’s true. My right eye’s burnt out. She says, ‘Go home. He’ll come. So, I go. I set every trap, every test in the book.”

“That’s what I would have done.”

“Emmanuel shows. He passes every one. There ain’t nothing weird about this guy. Except…he’s the real deal.”

Dean tightens his grip on his phone. He barely registers Addison standing next to the couch. “What do you mean?”

“He touched me and my eye was fixed. Look, I don’t believe in much that don’t suck your blood. But I wouldn’t call you on a maybe.”

* * *

Addison climbs out of the car with Dean and they exchange a look before walking up to the suburban house. She was skeptical about this Emmanuel guy. But since Dean considered it a lead that he was actually interested in, she hadn’t said anything. Dean knocks on the door and they wait until a man comes and opens it. “Hi. Uh, is this Daphne Allen’s house,” Dean asks. “I’m looking for Emmanuel.”

“Well, you found him,” the man replies, with a smile. “Daphne’s resting. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah, sure.” Dean moves back as the man steps out of the house. “Um, so, I was hoping, uh…” He trails off when he notices a woman tied up and gagged sitting in the living room. Addison takes a step back when the man’s eyes flash back.

The demon grabs Dean and throws him against the door. It then grabs Addison and tosses her over the porch’s side railing. “You were saying, Dean?”

“You know, I’d think twice. Or don’t you know that your boss issued a hands off memo?”

The demon laughs. “Please. What you have done for him lately? Roman’s head on a plate? No? Whatever Emmanuel is, Crowley is gonna want him. A lot more than he wants you these days.” The demon moves towards Dean and Dean quickly stabs him in the heart. He shoves the demon and starts down the stairs to help Addison. He stops when he sees a man helping her up.

The man looks between Dean and Addison, who can’t help but stare in disbelief at him. Standing in front of them was Castiel. Gone was his usual suit and trench coat. It had been replaced with a dark blue sweater and a pair of dress pants. It was clear that he had no idea who either of them were. “What was that,” he asks.

“Maybe we should go inside,” Addison softly suggests. Dean clears his throat and nods. Emmanuel  walks up the stairs and they enter house.

Emmanuel immediately moves over to Daphne and undoes the gag. “Did that creature hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” Daphne answers. Emmanuel unties the ropes and she immediately stands up. “But, Emmanuel, they were looking for you.”

“It’s okay.” Emmanuel and Daphne walk over to where Dean and Addison were standing. “I’m Emmanuel.”

Dean blinks and shakes Emmanuel’s hand. “Dean. I’m Dean. And this is Addison.”

“Thank you for protecting my wife.”

“Your wife. Right.”

“I saw his face. His real face.”

“He was a demon.”

“A demon walked the Earth.”

“Demons. Whack loads of them. You don’t know about…” Dean trails off, realizing that Emmanuel had no idea about demons.

“You saw the demon’s true face,” Daphne says. She turns to Dean and Addison. “Emmanuel has very special gifts.”

Addison smiles. “Yeah, we’ve heard that Emmanuel can help people.”

“I seem to be able to help to a certain degree,” Emmanuel replies. “What’s your issue?”

“My brother,” Dean answers.

* * *

Dean clenches the steering wheel as he glances in the rearview mirror at a sleeping Addison. Emmanuel had readily agreed to help after Dean had explained about Sam. They were currently on their way to go see Sam. “So Daphne. That, uh, your wife,” Dean questions, breaking the silence that had settled over the car.

“She found me and cared for me,” Emmanuel answers.

“Meaning?”

“Oh, it’s a strange story. You may not like it.”

“Believe me, I will.”

“A few months ago, she was hiking by the river, and I wandered into her path, drenched and confused and unclothed. I had no memory. She said God wanted her to find me.”

“So, who named you Emmanuel?”

“Bouncy baby names dot com.”

Dean glances at him and nods. “Well, it’s working for you. Must be weird not knowing who you are.”

“Well, it’s my life. And it’s a good life.”

“Yeah, well, what if you were some kind of, I don’t know, bad guy?”

“I don’t feel like a bad person. So, your brother.”

“Sam,” Dean supplies.

“Sam. What’s his diagnosis?”

“Well, uh, it’s not exactly medical.”

“That should be fine. I can cure illness of a spiritual origin.”

“Spiritual? Okay. Someone did this to him.”

Emmanuel looks at Dean. “You’re angry.”

“Yeah. Dude broke my brother’s head.”

“He betrayed you, this dude. He was your friend?”

“Yeah, well, he’s gone.”

“Did you kill him?” Dean glances at Emmanuel. “I sense that you kill a lot of people.”

“Honestly, I don’t know if he is dead. I just know that this whole thing couldn’t be messier. You know, I used to be able to just shake this stuff off. You know, whatever it was. Might take me some time but I always could. What Cas did…I just can’t. I don’t know why.”

“It doesn’t matter why.”

“Of course it matters.”

“No. You’re not a machine, Dean. You’re human. Your friend’s name was Cas? That’s an odd name.” Dean shifts, but remains quiet. Emmanuel turns to look at Addison. Dean’s jacket was draped over her. “Is Addison your wife?”

“No. She’s…” Dean trails off. “She’s just a good friend.”

“Oh. You seem to care a lot about her.”

* * *

Addison groans as she climbs out of the backseat of the car and stretches. They had stopped at a convenience store, to pick up a couple of snacks. “Oh, hey. Just, uh, sit tight,” Dean says, turning to Emmanuel. “We’ll be right out, okay?”

“An angel with amnesia,” Addison mutters in disbelief as they walk into the gas station. She shakes her head as they enter the store. She makes a beeline for the chips as Dean pulls out his cell phone. Hearing the store door open, Dean looks up into the mirror. When the man strides towards them, he pulls out the demon killing knife and shoves Addison behind him. The demon lunges for him and Dean throws him into the beer cooler before stabbing him.

Addison picks up Dean’s now broken cell phone off the ground. “Come on,” he says, taking his broken phone and shoving it in his pocket. They start out of the small store, but stop when they find more demons.

“Great,” Addison lets out. Dean raises the knife and swigs at one of the demons. The demon easily blocks the hit and sends the knife flying across the floor. She lunges for the knife as the demon tosses Dean into the wall. One demon walks over to Addison while the other demon moves towards Dean. The demon easily tugs her up and Addison slams the knife into it’s heart. She pulls the knife out as the familiar orange light flashes within the demon.

“Emmanuel, you son of a bitch,” Dean says, pushing himself up.

“Emmanuel. Yeah, not so much.” The hunters turn to see Meg.

“Meg," Dean greets.

“Dean and Addison,” Meg dryly greets. “You guys got some explaining to do.” Addison looks between the two bodies on the floor and walks over to the door. She locks it and flips the open sign to closed. She pauses for a moment, the pulls down the window shade. “Rumors are really starting to fly about this Emmanuel fellow. My curiosity sure got revved up.”

“Just tell us what you want, Meg.”

“Imagine my surprise when I track him down and he’s snuggled up with the two of you. And he’s the spitting image of poor dead Castiel. So, Dean, what’s poor dead Castiel doing in that junker out there?”

“Christmas caroling.”

“Fun. But how’s he alive? Last I heard, he played God, went poof.”

“I don’t know. And neither does he, so you gotta keep it shut.”

“Oh, I do?”

“He doesn’t know that he’s Cas,” Addison clarifies as Dean walks past her.

“I know. Been watching you for hours. So, here’s the deal. You might remember Crowley and me were frosty back in the day? Well, times haven’t changed.”

“Good,” Dean coldly says, tucking a bag of chips in his jacket pocket.

“That hurts my feelings. I’ve been good to you, Dean.”

“No, you’ve been good to you, sweetheart.”

“Look. Right now, rumors of this wandering healer are strictly low level. But body count is getting high enough to change that. Folks start poking, they sniff angel dust.”

“And they start falling all over each other trying to tell Crowley.”

“Now, picture Crowley with his hands on harmless little amnesia Cas. Don’t get me wrong, I’m gonna burn that smarmy dick. My time’s coming. But right about now, my army of one situation is not cutting it. It’s cold out here, there’s a price on my ass and I need friends.”

“Yeah. I get that. But we ain’t it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Dean. Cause I’m here to help you two and that makes us friends.”

“Help, huh? You mean see if you can’t turn harmless little Cas out there into an angel sized weapon?”

“Like you’re taking him caroling. And by the way, you really want to keep going with no backup? Hey, I don’t trust you guys either. But I could really use Emmanuel. And he trusts you two. So for now, it’s in everyone’s best interests to hold hands and cross the street together, okay?”

Dean glances at Addison and she remains quiet. “We go straight to Sam. No detours.”

“Love it.” Addison hands Dean the knife and grabs a few snacks off the shelves. “You sure we wouldn’t be safer traveling with a full throttle angel? I could jog his memory.” Dean shoots Meg a cold look. “Kidding! We wouldn’t want to upset the poor guy.”

The three of them walk out of the store and across the street to where Emmanuel was waiting. “Her face,” Emmanuel says, backing up. “She’s one of—”

“It’s okay,” Meg interrupts. “We come in different flavors.”

“She’s a friend,” Addison explains.

“Meg. Just here for moral support. I mean, after all, we go way back.” Meg’s met with three disbelieving looks. “Dean, Addison, and me. Just met you, of course. But I think we’re gonna be good friends too.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “All right. Can we go?”

* * *

“This silence is very uncomfortable,” Emmanuel says, breaking the silence that had settled over the car since they had gotten back on the road. Meg was sitting in the backseat with a sleeping Addison. Emmanuel glances between the hunters and demon. “Is there something I should know?”

“I don’t know,” Meg responds. “Guys?”

“No,” Dean answers. “Meg has that effect. Awkward. You know?”

Emmanuel turns to Meg. “That must be difficult for you.”

“Dean’s making a joke, Emmanuel,” Meg clarifies.

“Oh.” A loud snore comes from the backseat and Emmanuel frowns, looking at Addison. “Is she okay?  I’ve noticed that she sleeps a lot. I can cure her sleep apnea for you.”

“Addison’s fine,” Dean replies.

Meg smirks. “She’s very special, isn’t she, Dean?”

Dean shoots a glare at the demon in the rearview mirror. “Addison is—”

“Awake and needs to pee,” Addison yawns. “So, can we pull over?”

* * *

Dean shuts off the car and climbs out of the car to join Addison, Emmanuel, and Meg as they overlook the hospital that Sam was in.  A group of people were standing outside the emergency entrance. “Oh, gracious,” Emmanuel comments.

“Damn it,” Meg says. “Demons.”  
  
“Lovely,” Addison says.

“All of them,” Dean questions.

“No grass growing under your feet,” Meg replies.

Emmanuel looks at Dean. “How many of those knives do you have?”

“Just the one,” Dean answers.

“Well, then forgive me, but what do we do?”

“Yeah, Dean. Got any other ideas how we could blast through that,” Meg mocks.

Dean turns to the demon with a hard look on his face. “Excuse us. Meg?”

“Oh for the love of,” Meg mutters as she joins Dean and Addison a few feet away from Emmanuel. “Sam’s in there. I know you’re enjoying the double dip with your old pal, but—”

“You think it’s that cut and dry,” Dean interrupts. “Really? You know what he did. And you want to tell him and just hope that he takes it in stride? He could snap. He could…disappear. Who knows?”

“I gather we know each other.” They turn to see Emmanuel right behind them.

“Just a dollop,” Meg replies.

“You can tell me. I’ll be fine.”

“How do you know? You just met yourself. I’ve known you for years,” Dean argues.

Addison takes a deep breath. “You’re an angel, Emmanuel.” She ignores the look of disbelief that Dean shoots her.

Emmanuel stares at Addison. “I’m sorry? Is that a flirtation?”

“No, it’s a species,” Meg explains. “A very powerful one.”

“They’re not lying,” Dean tells him. “Okay? That’s why you heal people. You don’t eat. I’m sure there’s more.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Being an angel,” Emmanuel says. “It sounds pleasant.”

“It’s not, trust me. It’s bloody, it’s corrupt. It’s not pleasant.”

“He would know,” Meg states. “You used to fight together. Bestest friends, actually.”

Emmanuel stares at Dean. “We’re…friends? Am I Cas?” He’s met with silence. “I - I had no idea. I don’t remember you. I’m sorry.”

“You have the power to smite every demon down there,” Addison softly says.

Emmanuel turns and looks at the hospital. “But I don’t remember how.”

“It’s in there,” Dean tells him, walking over to him. “I’m sure it’s just like riding a bike.”

“I don’t know how to do that, either,” Emmanuel says.  Dean runs a hand over his face. “All right. I’ll try.”

“This ain’t gonna go well,” Dean says after Emmanuel walks towards the hospital. Addison rolls her eyes, but joins Dean as they watch Emmanuel.

“I don’t know. I believe in the little tree topper,” Meg counters. They watch as one by one, Emmanuel places a hand on the demon’s heads and a white light flashes. Once he’s finished, they make their way down to the hospital entrance. “That was beautiful, Clarence.”

“Cas,” Dean asks.

“I remember you,” Castiel replies. He turns to face them. “I remember everything. What I did. What I became. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because Sam is dying in there.”

“Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn’t be here.” Castiel turns and walks away.

“Cas! Cas,” Dean calls. He turns to Addison and Meg. “You guys stay here. Cas!” Dean runs after Castiel. “If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time.”

“Don’t defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth,” Castiel explains. He turns and stops to look at Dean. “We didn’t part friends, Dean.”

“So, what?”

“I deserved to die. Now, I can’t possibly fix it, so why did I even walk out of the river?”

“Maybe to fix it. Wait.” Dean opens the trunk of the car and pulls out Castiel’s trench coat. None of the blood had been cleaned off. He watches as Castiel pulls on the trench coat and disappears with a flutter of wings. He runs back to the entrance and frowns not seeing Addison. “Where’s Ads?”

Meg smirks. “Said something about you not being her boss and going to save Sam.”

Dean runs into the hospital. He catches up to Addison and grabs her arm. “Cas is going to help Sam. So, whatever the hell you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”

“I was going to check on him,” Addison says, pull her arm out of Dean’s grasp. She walks into Sam’s room, with Dean right behind her as Castiel appears with Sam. The younger Winchester looked worse than when they had last saw him a few days. His hand was wrapped up and he looked even more exhausted than before. Addison sits down on the bed and lightly grasps his hands.

“I tried,” Castiel softly says, walking out of the room with Dean. “But I can’t.”

“What the hell do you mean you can’t,” Dean asks.

“I mean there’s nothing left to rebuild.”

“Why not?”

“Because it crumbled. The pieces got crushed to dust by whatever’s happening inside his head right now.”

“So you’re saying there’s nothing? That he’s gonna be like this until his candle blows out?”

“I’m sorry. This isn’t a problem I can make disappear. You know that. But I may be able to shift it.”

Dean frowns. “Shift?”

“Yeah, it would get Sam back on his feet.”

Castiel moves to walk back into the room, but Dean grabs his arm. “Tell me what the hell Heaven’s natural protection means when it comes to the damn bloodline,” Dean quietly demands. “Sarah isn’t picking up the damn phone and Patrick didn’t leave us any idea as to what it means.”

“Addison can die. Heaven no longer offers the protection after anyone in the bloodline turns thirty-three.” Dean frowns, taking in what Castiel had just told him. He turns when hears Castiel walk into the Sam’s room. Castiel sits down on the bed, on the other side of Sam. “It’s better this way. I’ll be fine.”

“Cas, what are you doing,” Addison asks, rubbing Sam’s hand.

Sam flinches as Castiel leans in. “Now, Sam, this may hurt. And if I can’t tell you again I’m sorry I ever did this to you.”

They watch as Castiel places a hand on Sam’s head. A red light flashes from Sam’s head and slowly moves up Castiel’s arm. Sam gasps for breath. “Sam,” Dean asks, walking over to the bed.

“Dean,” Sam disbelievingly says. “Addison!” He pushes himself up the bed and stares at Castiel. “Cas? Cas, is that you?” They watch as Castiel stands up and slowly backs away. A look of horror was on the angel’s face.

* * *

Dean rolls his eyes when he sees Addison walk into the gas station’s men’s room. “Occupied,” he tells her. They had left the hospital that morning, leaving Castiel in the hospital. Meg had stayed behind, offering to protect the the angel. And it was something that he wasn’t comfortably with but it was too dangerous for Castiel to come with them.

“What did Cas tell you about the bloodline,” Addison questions. “And don’t act like you didn’t talk to him about it. I know you, Dean. I know that you asked.”

Dean tucks himself in and flushes the toilet before moving over to the sink. “He said that you can die. But that’s it.” He glances at Addison and finds her staring at him. “Ads—”

“I think we should put this whole bloodline thing in the case closed file,” Addison quietly interrupts.

“Okay.”


	19. Party On, Garth

“All right, well, call us if he wakes up or, you know, anything. Yeah, fine. Thanks for your help, Meg,” Dean says, then hangs up his newly acquired cell phone and shoves it in his pocket. He pulls out his flask and takes a quick swig. “What a bitch.”

Sam shakes his head as he leans forward. It was one of the few times where he rode in the backseat as Addison was driving. “So, Cas is the same, then,” he asks. 

“Down to the drool.”

“Huh.”

“By the way, how is your custard?”

“It’s all right. It’s getting better. Just wish it wasn’t like the damn tape from _The Ring._ I mean, I feel like I’m okay cause I passed on the crazy.”

“No, you didn’t. You heard what Cas said.”

“Let’s — let’s not. You know what?”

Music starts playing and Dean stares at Addison in disbelief as she pulls out her iPhone. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

Addison smirks. “Thank you for calling as my ringtone annoys my friend.”

“Because it’s fucking annoying, Addison,” Dean tells her.

“Hey, Addison. It’s Garth,” the familiar voice greets.

“Oh, we worked on that demon thing, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, we definitely owe you one. So, how can we help?”

“I’m ready to cash in that chip. There’s something brewing in Junction City, Kansas.”

“Just text me the details and we’ll meet you there.”

“We’re going to help some random dude,” Dean asks, after she hangs up.

“It’s Garth,” Addison answers. Seeing the blank look on his face, she smiles. “He helped us while Sam was being drugged by his number one fan. We owe him one.”

Dean shakes his head. “Fine.” A silence settles over the car until familiar music starts playing. He glares at Addison. “Turn it off.”

“No.”

“Turn it off, Addison.”

“I believe the rule is driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cake hole. And since I’m driving, this is what I want to listen to.”

“This is not music. This is…It’s not music, Addison.”

Dean turns to his younger brother. Sam holds up his hands. “Dude, it’s your rule. And you never let either of us pick the music when you’re driving.”

“My own brother,” Dean coldly mutters. Sam shakes his head in amusement.

Addison smirks and turns up the volume. “Tell me why, I never wanna hear you say, I want it that way,” she sings and grins when Dean glares at her.

“I hate you.”

* * *

“Well, this is it,” the coroner says, leading the trio into the morgue. They stare when they see Garth next to the table with a white sheet covering the body. It wasn’t seeing their fellow hunter that caught them a little off guard, it was seeing Garth was dressed in military fatigues. “Agents, this is Corporal Brown.”

“Corporal James Brown," Garth greets, with a sad smile. “I’m shipping off to the AF mañana. I’m here to pay respects to my cousin as I will not be able to attend the funeral.”

“That must be terrible for your family. Losing two brothers so fast.”

The trio exchanges a look at the revelation, before looking at Garth who was surprised at the news. “Yeah. Yeah. My aunt…she’s, uh, she’s real broke up about it.”

“Hey, Doc, can we see both files, please,” Sam asks.

The coroner nods and grabs a file of a table before it handing it to Sam. A phone rings and the coroner pulls out his cell phone. “My wife. I’ll, uh, be in my office.”

“Great,” Dean lets out as the coroner walks out of the morgue.

“Garth, you didn’t say that they were brothers,” Addison says.

“Dude, I just found out about the other corpse, and…started moving quick. I’m sucking up info as I go,” Garth defends.

“What? Are you allergic to a suit,” Dean questions.

“No. I just look good in a uniform.”

“Yep. Same cause of death,” Sam tells them, moving over to a computer in the corner.

“Right, uh, gutted at night in the woods, where legend says that the ghost of Jenny Greentree roams,” Garth reiterates. He frowns as Dean pulls out his EMF meter. “Oh, uh, I already scanned for EMF…” He trails off as the meter goes the charts. “Oh. Um, I guess mine must be broken again.”

“All right. I’m reading your mail. Uh, ghost of Jenny whatever,” Dean mumbles. 

“Greentree. That’s just it. I torched her bones.”

“Seems like she’s still got something keeping her around,” Addison says, lifting the sheet off of the body. She raises an eyebrow upon seeing what appeared to be a large bite mark in the center of the victim’s chest.

“Highly doubtful. Chick was homeless. Plus, is it me or is this less evil spirit, more monster chow?”

“A werewolf,” Dean asks, glancing at Addison and she shrugs.

“Except, uh, the witness said that whatever was chasing the victim numero uno was invisible.”

Dean chuckles. “Uh, so invisible ghost werewolf?”

“Why’d you think I called for backup?”

“Hey,” Sam calls and they turn to him. “Any of you ever heard of a Thighslapper Ale?”

“Is that a stripper or a beverage?”

“Beverage for douchebags,” Dean clarifies.

“It’s actually a pretty good beer,” Addison comments and Dean stares at her. “What? It is.”

“Uh, number one microbrew in the Pacific Northwest,” Sam tells them.

“But we’re in Kansas,” Garth argues.

“Yeah, I rest my case. What’s your point,” Dean asks.

“The owner is the dad to the dead brothers,” Sam explains.

“Right. I’ll can the uniform, go Fed. See you at the brewery in forty,” Garth says, then quickly leaves the morgue.

“He grows on you,” Dean states.

* * *

Addison shrugs on her black blazer after she climbing out of the junk car. The trio, along with Garth, had made their way to the Midwestern Brewing Company. Dean places a hand on her lower back as they make their way towards the building. “Agents,” a brunette woman greets, opening the doors from the inside of the building. “I’m Marie. I’m a manager.”

“Thanks for coming in on a Sunday,” Dean tells her.

“We want to help. Anything we can do.”

The hunters follow Marie into the building. “Oh. So all this is your dad’s, huh?”

“And his friend - Randy Baxter. They own the place together now.”

Sam frowns. “Uh, ‘now?’”

“Well, since Dale died.” The group stops when they hear people arguing. Two men were standing in an office along with a young man, who appeared to be a janitor’s uniform. “The, uh, charming Randy Baxter,” Marie explains, motioning to the man who was yelling.

“Tell you what,” Randy begins, glaring at the young man. “Congratulations. You’re headed for the graveyard shift. Be one second late and you’re fired.”

“Yes, sir,” the young says, then quickly walks out of the office.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” Marie quickly tells them. “It’s just not easy being the axman.

“So true,” Dean adds.

Garth clears his throat. “My comrades got you covered, so if you’ll excuse me.”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll go with you,” Sam says, then walks into the office with Garth.

Marie sighs. “He blamed himself when Dale died, and now this,” she tells them while they walk towards the brewery.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but why would your father blame himself,” Addison questions.

“Well, Dale was sensitive. But what do you do — watch them twenty-four seven? You can’t blame Dale’s friends.”

“But your dad still feels bad,” Dean states.

“And it doesn’t help Dale’s wife is suing us.”

“Really? Why?”

“She’s angry and grieving and this is America?”

* * *

“There’s a million things with claws that go bump in the night,” Dean says. He was sitting on the couch with Addison. Her with her iPad and him with John’s journal. Sam was sitting at a table with his laptop while Garth was at the bar, fiddling with his EMF reader. After leaving the brewery, they had headed to Garth’s motel room. “Once you throw in ‘invisible,’ the number goes down.” He closes the journal and sets it on the night stand. He rolls his eyes, seeing the hotel brochure. “‘Afternoon delights?’ Really, Garth? Don’t you think this place is a little, uh…”

“Uh, you want a nice hot tub after a day at the office,” Garth tells them. “It’s the little things. I feel sad for those brewery dudes. Spending your life beautifying the world through beer. First a partner offs himself. Now two kids get ganked by unknown freak-a-deek.”

“According to this, Dale wasn’t just a partner. He was also the brewmaster,” Sam says. He doesn’t say anything as Dean pulls out Bobby’s flask and takes a swig.

“‘Brewmaster?’”

“He was widely considered a genius.”

“All right. That’s it,” Dean replies, standing up. He walks over to where Garth was sitting at the bar and places the flask on the counter top. He doesn’t hear Garth’s EMF meter light up. “No microbrew is worth, what was it, eight _Food Magazine_ awards?” He grabs a few beers out of the fridge and hands them out before twisting the cap off his own bottle. “Beer’s not food. It’s…whatever water is.” Addison places her beer on the coffee table before turning her attention back to her iPad. “Hmm. Thighslapper.” He takes a swig. “Wow, that’s actually awesome. Damn it, I’m not even mad anymore.”

“Told you,” Addison mutters. She smiles at the annoyed look at the Dean shoots her.

A gulping noise gets their attention and they watch as Garth quickly drinks his bottle of beer. “Wow. Party on, Garth.”

“I don’t even usually drink beer. It messes with my depth perception,” Garth tells them after, dropping his empty bottle on the counter. Addison raises an eyebrow when he hiccups. “Especially when I skinny dip. Hey, you guys want to hear a joke?”

“Listen to this. This is something interesting,” Sam begins and Garth bursts out laughing. “Garth, are you drunk?”

“Dude, I just…drank a whole beer. Of course I’m drunk,” Garth replies, then lets out a loud burp.

“So, you found something interesting,” Addison asks, turning to Sam.

Sam nods. “Right. Uh…”

“Hey, can I have some more Thighslapper,” Garth asks.

“No,” Sam and Addison say at the same time.

“No. Coffee for you, Tara Reid,” Dean tells him.

“Coffee with kalhua in it,” Garth hopefully questions.

“So, it says that Dale actually left the company two weeks before he died. Or maybe he got pushed out cause he didn’t want to sell. I mean, Baxter said the deals been in the works for months,” Sam explains.

“That explains why Dale’s widow would be suing,” Addison says.

“Maybe Dale had a bone to pick and he’s still picking it,” Dean suggests.

“Right. So, maybe he’s a spiritu malo,” Garth adds.

The police scanner on the bar lets out a noise. “Unit to McAnn residence. 698 Washburn.”

“‘McAnn residence,’” as in Jim McAnn,” Sam asks.

“As in, let’s hope for their sake our spiritu ain’t made it out of the woods. All right. Let’s go check,” Garth says, standing up.

“Uh, you two go. Ads and I are gonna visit the widow,” Sam says. Dean looks at them and receives two amused smiles in response.

* * *

“Your husband did a lot of traveling, huh,” Sam asks, as he and Addison sit across from the widow. She was an older blonde woman, who was obviously exhausted by the events that had been going on the past few days.

“He went to all kinds of exotic places for the best ingredients,” the widow tells them.

“Right. We’ve tried his work. It’s - it’s great.”

“We hear that you’re not on the best terms with Dale’s old partners,” Addison says.

“Well, they sold his company right out from under him. It’s not about money. It’s about…it was his baby, you know,” the widow explains.

“You sound pretty upset about it,” Sam comments.

“I’m furious. I hate them. But then I think how Dale was.”

Addison frowns. “What do you mean?”

“His friends left him behind, but you know what he said? ‘I’m gonna send them a gift that shows I forgive them.’”

“Do you have any idea what sent them,” Sam questions.

“Bottle of sake. From one his trips. In a gorgeous box with writing. He was so careful with it. Wouldn’t let me touch it.”

* * *

After stopping to change and to give Dean a call, while also learning what he and Garth had found out, Sam and Addison are waiting outside the brewery, waiting for Dean and Garth. “Just spit it out,” Addison says, breaking the silence that had settled over them since leaving the widow’s house.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Sam replies, shooting her a reassuring smile.

Addison stares at him, then shakes her head. A car pulls up and they watch as Dean climbs out. Sam quickly picks the lock on the brewery door and they make their way up to the offices. “Found it,” Addison says, gingerly picking up the wooden box. She sets it on the desk and slowly opens it. Japanese writing covered the inside of the box. A bottle of sake was sitting inside.

Sam picks up the bottle. “Oh,” he says, upon noticing the broken seal on the bottle. “Wait a second. Someone’s been sampling the goods.”

“Oh, you don’t say,” Dean replies. He motions to the security camera hanging in the corner. “Hey, check it out. God, I love paranoid people. See if you can get on.”

Sam sits down behind the computer. It easily boots up. “Okay. Uh…” He trails off as he opens the security feed. “Huh.” Addison shakes her head as the boys wave at the camera. “All right, so, first death was, what, uh four months ago? Yeah?”

“Yeah. Trevor McAnn,” Addison tells him.

“So, what did he let out of that bottle.” They watch as three men appear on the screen. “Nothing there.”

“That we can see,” Dean adds, watching as Trevor grabs a few liquor bottles from the office. Addison watches as Dean grabs a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. He sets the glasses on the table before taking a swig from the bottle.

“Seriously,” Addison questions.

“Tick tock,” Dean replies. Addison sighs and grabs the bottle from him. She fills the two glasses before setting the bottle of the desk.

“I mean, can you even get drunk anymore,” Sam asks, glancing at Dean. “It’s kind of like, uh, drinking a vitamin for you, right?”

“Shut up,” Dean mutters, walking back over the cabinet. He grabs a bottle filled with a clear liquor. Addison turns her attention back to the computer, taking a sip of her whiskey in the process. He opens the bottle and takes a sniff, before shrugging and taking a swig from it. “Holy shit.” He grabs an empty glass and fills it, walking back over to Sam and Addison. The three of them clink their glasses, then easily throw them back. They throw back more shots, until their each sufficiently buzzed “All right. Party time.”

“Okay.”

“Rewind and go,” Dean says, pulling a chair over to the desk. They settle in watching the security feed and drinking the liquor. He threads his fingers through the belt loop on Addison’s jeans and tugs her down onto his lap. She fills her glass up with the clear liquor and does the same to his empty glass. She leans back against his chest.

Sam plays the video and they watch as Trevor opens the wooden box. A woman, wearing a dirty white dress and jet black hair appears behind him. “It’s the creepy girl from _The Ring_ ,” Addison mutters.

“So, he - he let that thing out of the box and it must have just followed him to the place with all thing thingies,” Sam replies, taking another swig of his whiskey.

“Yes. Yes. That’s smart. I’m actually kind of drunk,” Dean tells them.

Addison leans her head back on his shoulder. “Me too.”

“That’s cause you’ve always been a lightweight.” Dean raises his empty glass. “What is this?”

Addison grabs the bottle of the desk and takes a swig. “Something really good.”

Dean chuckles as he grabs the bottle out of her hand and pours some in his glass. “Me likey.” He turns to his younger brother. “I miss these talks.”

The moment Dean takes a sip of the liquor the office door opens and Randy Baxter enters the office. Dean spits the liquor back into the glass as Addison sits up. “What the hell,” Baxter demands.

“Oh man.”

“Crap,” Addison murmurs, standing up. She sways and grabs onto the desk.

“Uh…” Sam trails off, looking between Dean and Addison.

“Turn it off. Turn it off,” Dean tells him.

“FBI, huh? You know what,” Baxter begins, pulling out his cell phone. “You can save it for the cops.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Sam says, jumping up from his seat. “Mr. Baxter, listen. If - if you just let us explain, you might not—”

Baxter suddenly falls to the floor and they stare in disbelief. Garth was standing behind the man, taser in his hand. “We - we should probably go,” Addison says, looking between the boys.

* * *

“It says, ‘what you took will be taken from you,’” the Japanese man tells the trio, while examining the wooden box they had taken from Baxter’s office. It hadn’t been hard to find a someone who was able to translate the box for them after leaving the brewery. “Like eye for an eye. You with me?”

“Yeah,” Addison replies, then takes a gulp of her coffee. 

The chef finishes translating the box and looks at them. “Where’d you guys get this anyway?”

“Why,” Sam asks, shifting. “Is - is there, uh, something the matter?”

“Well, you’re not superstitious, are you,” the chef asks, handing the box back to Sam.

“Not at all,” Dean answers.

“Because…this says the bottle inside contains a Shojo.”

“What’s a…shojo?”

“An alcohol spirit. Look, it’s just an old myth. I wouldn’t worry about it. But they are not known for being friendly.”

Someone from inside the restaurant shouts. “I got to go,” the chef tells them.

“Oh. Uh, hey, uh.” Dean fishes out a wad of cash and hands it to the chef. “There you go. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” the chef replies, then heads back into the restaurant.

The trio make their way back to the motel room, where Garth had taken Baxter back to. “Garth,” Sam begins as they enter the room and find Garth practicing martial arts. They younger Winchester frowns as he looks around. “Where’s Baxter?”

Garth motions to the heart shaped hot tub in the corner. “Dude’s a lot heaver than he looks, FYI. But here.” He pulls out Dean’s EMF meter and sets it on the bar. “Thought you might want this back.”

“You have the CEO of the douchiest microbrew in the US gagged in your hot tub,” Dean states, staring in disbelief at the scene in front of him. “You really think that’s gonna end well?”

“I’m not feeling the love.”

Addison grabs her iPad off the coffee table. “Let’s see what we can find out about a Shojo,” she mutters, sitting down on the couch.

“What’s a shojo?”

“Japanese booze monster,” Dean answers, moving towards the bar.

“I guess that would explain why you got to be drunk to see it. Very poetic.” Sam sits down at the table and opens his laptop. Garth looks over his shoulder as Sam researches. “Ooh. Creepy.”

“Okay. So, a shojo is said to roam where there’s lots of alcohol,” Sam reads. “There’s lore saying that, back in the old day, if you were plastered enough, you could see one skulking around the breweries in Japan.”

“Yeah, but why is this one shredding brewers’ kids,” Dean asks, pouring whiskey into his flask.

“Because you can harness the will of a shojo with the right spell box,” Addison explains, standing up. “Basically, you can create an attack dog to do whatever revenge you want them to do.”

“So Dale nabs one to punish his pals.”

“Send the bottle, sooner or later it’s popped open. Then you a have shojo that will do whatever Dale compelled it do right here on the box,” Sam finishes.

“Wait. Except it’s not killing the people that screwed him over,” Garth reminds.

“Dale’s widow said that company was his baby,” Addison says.

Sam nods. “So, if he really wanted his friends to feel what he felt…”

“He would take theirs,” Dean reasons. “Well, their kids. Jim’s anyways.”

“And Baxter was the godfather.”

“All right, skip to how do we gank it.”

“Good news. It is killable.”

“But…”

“But only with a samurai sword consecrated with a Shinto blessing.”

“Well…that’s not a silver lining. All right, the shojo already cleaned house, right? I mean, Marie’s the last target standing so…I’ll hit the pawn shops and, uh, look for the sword and you guys babysit Marie.”

The EMF meter Garth had set on the bar is knocked off and the hunter quickly catches it. “Yikes. Sorry.”

Dean grabs the EMF meter out of Garth’s hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Unless I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Garth,” Dean warns.

Addison exchanges a look with Sam. “Dean, what’s he talking about,” she asks.

“I’m concerned that Bobby might be haunting you,” Garth explains. “I - I brought it up to Dean and he shot me down.”

“Garth,” Dean snaps. “Leave it alone.”

“It’s okay,” Sam replies, standing up.

“No, it’s far from okay.”

“I’ve already tried contacting Bobby,” Sam tells them. Dean stares at his younger brother with a shocked look. “When that beer disappeared, I pulled out a talking board.”

“Without me?”

“You know, I figured, why drag you in…when it’s something I could just put to bed myself.”

“And?”

“And if he was there, I’d have told you.”

Baxter groans. “Talk about this later,” Dean tells them. “You and Ads follow Marie.” He turns to Garth. “Let me borrow your keys.”

* * *

“What if my dad is haunting us,” Addison asks, after throwing back the tequila shot. Keeping an eye on Marie had led her and Sam to a bar near the brewery. They were sitting at the bar, watching Marie through the mirror hanging behind the counter. “I mean, that would explain some things that have been happening.”

Sam shoots her a sad smile as he motions for the bartender to refill their drinks. “I tried that too, Ads. Patrick’s not haunting us either.”

“Oh.” Addison picks up her glass of red wine and quickly empties it.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there.”

“It’s fine.” She shoots him a smile. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

Sam’s phone rings and he fishes it out of his jacket pocket. “Yeah,” he greets after spotting Dean’s name on the screen.

“Hey, either of you good to drive,” Dean asks.

“Uh…” Sam trials off, looking between his glass of whiskey and the tequila shot that had just been placed in front of Addison.

“Well, get a ride. It’s at the brewery.”

“What?”

“There’s another kid. Don’t think - move.”

Dean hangs up and Sam shoves his phone in the pocket before standing up. Addison sets a fistful of bill on the counter and slowly stands up. “Uh, I’m way drunker than I thought I was,” Addison tells him as they make their way out of the bar.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait! Taxi,” Sam shouts as he and Addison rush over to where a couple was climbing into a taxi. “Hey, hey, hey! Stop! Hold on, hold on. National security! Please!” They flash their fake badges at the couple as the couple steps back. “Thank you, ma’am. Sorry.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Addison tells the couple, then slides into the backseat of the cab. “Hey, we need to go to—”

“The brewery,” Sam interrupts. “Step on it!”

“What,” the taxi driver asks, looking between them.

“The brewery! Hurry! Hurry, hurry.” The driver slowly drives down the road and Addison groans. “Please?”

“Yeah, but I like to drive safe, you know,” the driver reminds.

Addison leans in close. “Why are we going to the brewery,” she whispers.

“Dean says there’s another kid.”

“Oh. Gotcha.”

Within a few minutes, they’re pulling up to the brewery. Sam shoves a wad of bills into the driver’s hand, then he’s pulling Addison out of the cab and they’re making their way into the brewery. As they move further into the brewery, a young man, wearing a janitor’s uniform nearly runs into them. “Whoa,” Sam says, grabbing the young by the shoulders. “Easy!”

“We got to get out of here, man,” the young man tells them. “It’s here!”

“Where’s Garth,” Addison asks, looking around.

“Who?”

“Garth,” Sam repeats.

“I - I - there was a guy - he got knocked out!”

“Course he did,” Addison mutters, starting to walk off.

“Ads,” Sam says, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. Her gaze widens seeing the shojo moving towards them. “Stay behind me. Stay behind me.”

“Okay, okay,” the young man replies, staring at the ghost. “What? You can - you can see it?”

“Oh yeah,” Addison answers. “We are so wasted.”

“Fire exit,” Sam says, motioning to the opened door on his right side. “On three.”

“Okay.”

“All right.” The door suddenly slams shut. “Okay. So much for that.”

The shojo appears right in front of them. Addison pushes the young man back as Sam is tossed against the wall. The shojo continues towards them. Addison is thrown across the room and she hits a wall before falling to the ground with a thud. The young man backs up as the shojo advances on him. A hand grabs his shoulder and he jumps seeing Dean with a sword in one hand.

“Get back,” Dean orders, shoving the young man behind him. He slashes at the air in front of him. The shojo punches Dean, the force knocking him to the ground and causing the sword to slide across the room. He looks around the room. At the other end Sam was lying on the ground, unconscious. While a few feet away Addison was also unconscious. He spots the sword a few feet away from. The sword slides across the floor towards him and Dean scoops it up before standing. Sam groans as he slowly wakes up. “Where is it?”

“Uh, swing right,” Sam replies, staring at the shojo. Dean swings to his left, completely missing the spirit. “My right.” Dean swings and Sam watches as the shojo quickly moves out of the way. “Three o’clock, Dean!” He misses the shojo once more. “Six o’clock!” The young man falls to the ground as Dean swings the sword behind him. Hearing an unearthly scream, he shoves the sword backwards, then the releases the sword.

The shojo appears in front of Dean. The spirit lets out a scream and vanishes, leaving the sword to fall to the floor. Dean picks up the sword. “You okay,” he asks the young man.

“I’m alive. Yeah,” the young man answers.

“Sam?”

Sam shoots him a thumbs up. “Yeah.” 

“Ads?” 

Sam slowly makes his way over to Addison. “She’s still out.”

Dean runs a hand over his face, pushing down the worry. “Where’s Garth,” he questions.

“Well, he’s - he’s over this way,” the young man tells him, motioning down one of the aisles.

“Would you go get him?” The young man scampers off. Dean looks at the sword in his hand and the spot at where it had landed. He looks down at the sword in his hand. He knew it had moved from where it had landed a few feet away from him. “This moved. Bobby? Are you here? Come on, do something.” He’s unaware of Sam and a now awake Addison listening to him.

* * *

“You sure you guys don’t want to hang out,” Garth asks, as he and the trio walk out of his motel room with his bag in his hand. They stop by his car and he tosses the duffel bag into the trunk. “Grab some brunch, maybe some brews?”

Dean chuckles. “Tempting, but, uh, we better roll.”

“All right, well.” Dean’s caught off when Garth embraces him. Addison smiles as Garth hugs her. “Call me anytime.”

“All right,” Dean tells him.

Garth turns to Sam. “And you, Sam.” He holds out a hand and Sam chuckles as he grasps it and shakes. “Aw, come here.” Garth hugs the younger Winchester.

Sam awkwardly pats Garth’s back. “Uh, yeah. Thanks, Garth.”

“Sayonara, kemosabes,” Garth tells him, climbing into his car. He nods over to where the trio’s latest car is parked. “Nice ride.”

“You’re right,” Sam says, watching Garth drive off. “He has grown on me.”

“That he does,” Addison replies, smiling.

Sam clears his throat. “All right, um, so let’s talk about it.”

“About what,” Dean asks, looking between them. Sam shoots him a knowing look. “Oh. The, uh, talking board? That’s fine. I get it, I guess.”

“No, not that. Look, we heard you.”

“Heard me what?”

“Dean, what exactly happened in the brewery,” Addison softly questions.

“Nothing. It was, uh, it was just my imagination.”

Dean turns and walks back into the motel room. “Dean, we know that something happened,” Addison tells him. “Just be honest with us.”

“The blade was across the room and then it was in my hand,” Dean begins. “And then my beer drank itself. Oh, and then that page magically appeared on the bed. And - and then Bobby’s book fell down and out popped the number of the guy who found Cas. Nothing, I’m sure.”

“Clearly,” Sam replies.

“Well then what, Sam? Is Bobby here or not?”

“You know what I think, Dean? I think that regular people, they see ones they lost everywhere too.”

“Yeah, fucking ghosts!”

“Or they just miss ‘em a lot. I mean, they see a face in the crowd, we see a book falling off the table. Same thing, Dean. I did the talking board, I ran plenty of EMF. When that beer went poof - I went a little nuts.”

“Yeah, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Like I said, little nuts at the time.”

“All right, well, if it wasn’t Bobby, then what Jedi’d that sword into my hand?”

“Well, the shojo did slam the door from across the room,” Addison reminds. “Maybe it was trying to grab the sword.”

Dean nods, unconvinced. “Right. Right, I mean if it was Bobby, he would let us know. I mean, who knows more about being a ghost than Bobby? Instant Swayze, right?”

Sam nods. “Exactly.”

“Okay. Okay, you — so your theory is that - that we’re practically regular people about something for once. All right.” The trio each grabs their bags and walks out of the room. “Well, you guys want to grab some brunch and some brews.”

Sam groans. “Ugh, no. I’m so hung over. Let’s just hit the road.”

Dean turns to Addison and she shakes her head. “The fact that I’ve haven’t puked everything up is a damn miracle,” she tells him.

“All right,” Dean replies, tossing his stuff in the trunk. They climb into the car and Dean starts the engine. “Hang on.” Sam shoots Addison a confused look as Dean walk back into the motel room. A moment later, Dean climbs back into the driver’s seat, Bobby’s flask in his hand.


	20. Of Grave Importance

“Hey, get this,” Dean says as he and Sam sit at a table in a sea front restaurant waiting for Annie, a fellow hunter, to show up. Addison had went to the bathroom, leaving the brothers alone. “Dick Roman is funding another archaeological dig. Guy moves more dirt than _The Drudge Report._ ”

“Well, any - anything on what he’s digging for,” Sam questions.

Dean shoots him an annoyed look. “Don’t you think I would have led with that?”

Sam sighs and glances at his watch. “Annie’s not usually this late, is she?”

“No, never. She’s totally compulsive,” Dean replies, folding up his paper and pulling out his phone. “I’ll try her cell.”

“You know, uh, you know she and Bobby had a thing, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I knew that.” Dean pauses as he dials Annie’s number. “Really?”

“Yeah. Kind of a foxhole thing. Very Hemingway.”

“Huh.” Dean shifts. “She and I kind of went Hemingway this one time too.”

“All right. Well, that happens,” Sam replies, inwardly wincing.

Dean covers his phone after seeing the wince on Sam’s face. “What? You too?”

“Look, it was a while back,” Sam confesses. “We ended up on the same. She was stressed and I…I didn’t have a soul.”

“That's a lot foxholes.” Dean frowns. “Wait, weren’t you and Ads—”

“She was there too,” Sam interrupts.

Dean stares at his younger brother in disbelief and Sam can’t help but awkwardly shrug. “Everything okay,” Addison asks, sitting down at the table. 

The brothers exchange a look. “Fine,” they answer. Addison raises an eyebrow as she looks between the boys, clearly not believing them.

“She’s not answering,” Dean says, snapping his phone shut. He pulls out Bobby’s flask and pours some whiskey into his coffee. “Well, here’s to ghosts that aren’t there.”

“You sound kind of disappointed,” Sam points out.

“No, it’s better this way. And even though I wished we could see him again, doesn’t mean that we should.” The trio clinks their coffee mugs and each takes a sip. “Ahh. Are we being stood up?”

“Well, hopefully that’s all it is,” Addison replies.

After eating lunch, the trio walks out of the restaurant. Dean had his phone pressed against his ear. “Nothing,” Sam questions as Dean snaps his phone shut.

“Straight to voicemail,” Dean tells them. “Something’s not right.”

“Did Annie say why she was in Bodega Bay,” Addison asks.

“She’s working some kind of job. She didn’t really say.” He pulls out his flask and goes to take a swig, but stops upon realizing it was empty. “I got to get a refill.”

“You know what, man? Why don’t you, uh, just pack it away for a while,” Sam says. “All it does it remind us of him, you know?”

“Yeah, I thought about that, but, uh, not yet,” Dean replies, walking over to the driver’s seat. Sam looks over at Addison and she shrugs. “Let’s go check out Annie’s hotel room.”

* * *

“These go back years,” Sam says, breaking the silence that had settled over the trio. They were currently in Annie’s motel room, going through all of her research. Dean and Addison were sitting on the bed while Sam was at the small table in the corner. “Disappearances never solved. They stop a few decades back, then pick up again just recently. All teenagers.”

“Looks like Annie found a spot a lot of them liked to poke around just before they went missing,” Dean replies.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Old Van Ness house.” 

“It appears to be a very cheery place,” Addison comments, handing Sam some of the research Annie had done.

“Well, the police combed the place. They always came up dry,” Sam explains.

Dean scoffs. He walks over to where Annie had pinned some of her research on a wall. “Yeah, local law. Always on the ball.”

“So, built in 1862 by the Van Ness family, who lost it in the early 1900s. Put up for sale a few years back. No takers.”

“Probably cause it creeps their queso.”

“It’s just been sitting there, board up, for ages. Oh. Get this. I guess a couple months back, someone put it on one of those, uh, ‘most haunted houses in America’ lists.”

“Don’t you love when people do that,” Addison deadpans. 

Dean nods. “Let me guess - that’s when the, uh, teenagers started to go missing.”

“Yep.”

“Ah, I say we get rolling.”

* * *

“Honey, I’m home,” Dean calls as they enter the abandoned Van Ness house. Cobwebs and dust covered much of the furniture. Addison shines her flashlight around, taking in the untouched house. “All right, let’s go.” The trio makes their way upstairs. “Annie?” Dean pulls out his phone and dials Annie’s number for the umpteenth time that day.

Sam pulls out the EMF meter and turns it on. It immediately lights up. “There’s a whole lot of something going on,” he tells them.

A phone ringing causes them to look around the room. “Hear that,” Addison asks. They walk down a hallway and find a phone lying on the floor. She picks up the phone and finds Dean’s number glowing on the screen. “Annie was definitely here at some point. Her last was call to you.”

“So, where the hell is she,” Dean asks, taking the phone from Addison.

“Good question.” Addison frowns as Dean starts going through the messages on Annie’s phone. “Dude, seriously.”

“Hey, maybe it picked something up.” Addison shakes her head as Dean starts listening to the voicemails on Annie’s phone. They search the house, finding no sign of Annie.

“We’re headlining all over the place,” Sam informs. He looks between the two of them. “Assume the worst.”

“We always do,” Addison softly says. 

“Okay, vengeful spirit, maybe lots of them, killing kids. I mean, look around. No blood, no anything. Certainly no bodies.”

“If evil is partying here, it’s a got a hell of a cleanup crew,” Dean comments. He stops. “Wait, wait, wait.”

“What?”

Dean rewinds the voicemail on Annie’s phone. “Here’s something. From earlier this week.” He presses play on the phone.

“Free me,” a female voice says. “Free me.”

“Where’d that come from,” Sam questions.

Dean shows them the display. Instead of numbers, there was a series of dots. “Either of you ever seen a phone number that looked like that,” he asks.

A couple of hours later, the trio makes their way back towards the main entrance of the house. “Well, that is every square inch of the place,” Dean says. “No bodies, no pieces of bodies…no Annie. A whole lot of sizzle and no steak.”

“Well, maybe no news is good news,” Sam replies.

“Meaning?”

“Maybe she’s not here,” Addison answers. “Maybe she’s fine.”

“Yeah, and what does your gut say?”

Sam sighs, turning off the EMF meter. “Let’s just see if there’s anything else in her research.”

The trio walks out of the house and climbs into their beat up car. “Where’d Annie get her intel, do we know,” Dean questions as they sit in the car. He pulls out Bobby’s flask and takes a swig.

“Uh, ‘Bodega Bay Heritage Society,’” Sam answers, holding up a brochure that was part of Annie’s research. Dean starts the car and they drive off.

* * *

Addison looks around the museum. A hand touches her lower back and she turns to see Dean. She shoots him a questioning look, but he shrugs and they join Sam, who was talking to a museum work. “The house dates back to the mid-19th century. Miles Van Ness made his fortune in the gold rush, eventually settling his family in Bodega Bay,” the curator explains.

“Anything….unusual ever happen in the house,” Sam asks.

“Oh, over the course of a century, things are going to happen in a house. Some locals sweat it’s haunted. Every village has its idiots.”

“But we only want the real scoop,” Dean replies.

“Whitman Van Ness,” the curator begins, motioning to a sign behind him. “Son and heir. Handsome, charming. Dogged by tragedy all his life. He lost the family fortune, then the house. It became a bordello. He lived in isolation until his death at age forty.”

Dean motions to a larger man in a photo with Van Ness. “Who’s the, uh, bruiser there?”

“Dexter O’Connell. A convict. An extremely violent man. Mr. Van Ness was socially progressive and took pity on him. He worked as groundskeeper. Dexter was convicted for murdering Whitman’s fiancee on the eve of their wedding. Another calamitous event in the poor man’s life.”

“Hmm. Well, thank you.”

“The house is popular this week.”

Addison frowns. “What do you mean?”

“A lady came by the other day asking all sorts of questions.”

“Uh, thirties, red hair, good looking,” Dean asks.

The curator nods. “I gave her the same advice I’ll give to you: stay away from the place. It’s extremely unsafe.”

_Dean presses Addison against the motel door. His lips slam against hers. His hand tangles in her hair.  His back hits the wall and he watches as she slides down his body. She slowly pulls down his jean and boxer briefs. He lets out a soft groan when her tongue trails over his aching cock. “Fuck, Ads,” he moans as her mouth wraps around him._

“Need any help in there?” Dean opens his eyes and finds the burnt orange tile in front of him. The hot water poured down his back. Hearing the toilet flush, he pokes his head out of the shower and finds Addison standing at the sink, washing her hands.

“You couldn’t have waited until I was done,” Dean asks, ducking back into the shower.

“Hey, I had to pee. And you were taking too long,” Addison defends. “How was I supposed to know you were rubbing one out?”

Dean lets out a sigh and turns his attention back to the stream of water. He runs a hand through his hair as he hairs Addison walk out of the bathroom. “So, besides Whitman’s fiancee,” Sam calls. Dean looks up at the ceiling, resolved that he wasn’t going to get a relaxing shower. “Dexter O’Connell was also convicted of killing a bunch of hookers who worked at the brothel.”

“I hate serial killer ghosts,” Addison comments, sitting down at the table next to Sam.

Sam shoots her an amused smile. “He escaped before they could hang him. But then he returned to the house, where he was found shot to death. Why would he escape and then go right back to the house where he got arrested?”

“I don’t know,” Dean loudly answers. “Add that to a list of things I don’t know.”

“So, what the next move?”

Dean shuts off the water and grabs a nearby towel. He wraps the towel around his waist and climbs out of the shower. He looks up and stares at the words written in the condensation covered mirror. “Ads?”

Addison rolls her eyes. “What?”

"Tell me you wrote that.”

“Wrote what,” she questions, moving towards the bathroom. Dean motions to the mirror. _Annie trapped in house._ “I didn’t write that.”

“Well, then, who’s there,” Dean demands. Sam stands behind Addison in the doorway. “I said, who’s there?!” The faucet turns on and steam builds up in front of the mirror. A ‘B’ appears on the mirror along with an ‘O’. “Bobby?” They watch as the rest of Bobby’s name appears on the mirror. “This whole time, we’ve been trying to talk ourselves out of it, he’s been — what’s he doing here?”

Sam walks over to the dresser and rifles through Dean’s bag before pulling out the beat up flask that belonged to Bobby. “Dude.”

“Guys, we need to get back to that house,” Addison says, exchanging a look with the boys.

* * *

"We combed the fuck out of this place,” Dean says, taking a shotgun out of the trunk. They had made their way over to the Van Ness house after Dean had gotten dressed. “If Annie’s in there and we didn’t find her…”

“Its cause something didn’t want us to,” Sam finishes.

“Well, that’s always fun to know when going into a haunted house,” Addison comments.

The trio walks into the house. Everything looked the same from their earlier visit. “All right, I’ll check upstairs,” Sam tells them, then walks up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Dean replies as Addison walks around the entry way of the house. He watches her for a moment, then runs a hand over his face. “Annie? Annie! It’s Dean! And Sam and Addison.”

A soft thud causes Addison to turn. A video camera sat on the floor a couple of feet away from her. “That’s not weird at all,” Addison says, joining Dean as he picks up the camera. 

“Sam, get back down here,” Dean shouts. He looks around the room. “Annie?” Heavy footsteps cause them to turn. “Slimer,” Dean questions as Sam appears.

“What,” Sam asks, looking between the two of them.

“Check it out,” Dean replies, holding up video camera.  He hits the play button and they watch as a couple of teenagers appear on the screen. “I hate these indie films. Nothing ever happens.”

“Pause it,” Addison says after noticing the flicker on the screen. “Rewind it a little bit.”

The trio exchanges a look as Annie faintly appears on the screen. “She’s here. And not in a good way.” Dean snaps the video camera shut and shoves it in his jacket pocket. Sam and Addison move around the room. “Annie?” He turns to them. “Anything?”

“Annie,” Sam calls out.

“Annie,” Addison yells. She turns as a dark haired, pale skinned woman appears in the room. “Guys.”

“Whoa,” Sam replies as the boys aim their shotguns at the ghost.

“Please. I’m Victoria,” the ghost says. “Victoria Dodd.”

“Where’d you come from?”

“Here. I was a fancy lady.”

Dean tightens his grip on his shotgun. “A hooker?”

Victoria shoots him an annoyed look. Addison lightly hits Dean’s arm before turning to the ghost. “We’re looking for our friend, Annie,” Addison says. “Is she here?”

“Yes.” The trio looks around the room. “You can’t see her.” Dean looks down at his feet. “No, you’re not standing on her.” Victoria looks over her shoulder. “I will. In my day, we believe in polite conversation. Annie’s in terrible danger. We all are.”

“From,” Sam questions.

“Whitman Van Ness.”

“But he’s dead,” Dean reminds.

“I thought you said they were good,” Victoria says, glancing over her shoulder. 

“Hey, I’m just processing, okay, lady,” Dean argues. “He’s dead, you’re dead. Define ‘terrible danger.’”

“Whitman has great power over all of us in the house. He killed Annie. She says you can free us. Please, you must—” Victoria’s cut off when she lets out a scream of pain. They trio watches as she goes up in a cloud of flames and vanishes. 

The trio looks around the room. “Victoria,” Sam calls out. 

“I’m gonna say she was telling the truth,” Dean starts. “Considering she just got ghost killed.”

“So, Whitman Van Ness,” Addison asks, looking between the brothers.

“Now we know whose bones to salt and burn. Let’s go.”

* * *

“All right,” Sam says as their latest car speeds down the dark highway. Addison brushes invisible lent off of her sleeve, through it didn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. “Here we go - cemetery, edge of town. The Van Ness family has its own mausoleum.”

“All right, we light up the bastard and finish him off,” Dean replies as the car speeds up.

“Dean, us getting in an accident isn’t gonna help anyone,” Addison tells him. “We’ll get there when we get there.”

“Uh, that’s not me,” Dean tells her. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as the car swerves on the road. Suddenly, Van Ness appears on the front seat. The ghost grabs the steering wheel, fighting with Dean over control of the car. Dean finally gains control of the car and pulls over.

“Why’s he with us,” Sam questions as they climb out of the car.

“I don’t know,” Addison answers, checking her pockets as the boys do the same. “Bastard probably put something on us.”

“Hey, hey.” Sam holds up a key he had found in his jacket pocket. 

Van Ness appears behind Sam and shoves a fist in his chest. “Sam,” Dean shouts, running towards his younger brother with Addison on his heels. Dean grabs the key out of his hand and drops it on the ground. He pulls out his pistol and shoots at it. Van Ness vanishes in a cloud of black smoke.

Sam gasps and Addison places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Did that do it,” Sam asks, looking between the two of them and where the ghost had been. “That get rid of him?”

“I don’t know,” Dean confesses. “I got a bad idea we just snapped him back to his favorite house.”

“Where Annie’s a sitting duck.”

“We got to find those bones,” Dean tells them, walking over to the car. “Come on.”

The trio quickly climbs into the car and makes their way to the cemetery. After wandering around the cemetery, they finally find the mausoleum for the Van Ness family. Sam easily picks the lock on the gate and they walk in. Van Ness’ grave was towards the center of the mausoleum. Using a chisel and a hammer, Dean manages to get the grave opened. Sam and Addison tug the old coffin out of the grave and set it on the floor. Dean kicks off the lid to reveal Van Ness’ bones. Addison pours gasoline and salt into the coffin before Dean lights a matchbook and tosses it in.

After cleaning up the mess, the trio makes their way back to the Van Ness house. None of them wanted to say what they knew needed to be done. They enter the house and stop upon seeing Bobby lying on the floor in front of them. “Hello boys, Addison,” the former hunter greets.

“Bobby,” Dean disbelievingly asks.

“Wait…you can see me?” Bobby stands up and the trio can’t help but stare. “You’re staring, you know. Annie’s here too, by the way.”

“Hi, Annie,” the trio awkwardly greets, looking around the room. 

Bobby motions to a spot behind him. “She says you boys look uglier than she remembered.”

Sam chuckles. “Bobby, how’d you stay here?”

“Yeah, well, um…” Bobby trails off as he walks over to a desk. He pulls out his older flask and tosses it to Dean. “Suck on that, Swayze.”

“That’s why you never answered me. I tried calling you. The talking board, the works. But I was always alone. Dean always had that thing in his pocket. That’s why the EMF only went off half the time. We thought we were going crazy.”

“So, what happened,” Dean questions, looking at the man he considered a father. “Did you get stuck or what?”

“I wanted to stay,” Bobby answers. 

“Bobby.”

“I need to help.”

“Not if it means you have to be this.”

“Well, life wasn’t comfy. Why should death be? Now, come on. Annie and I found all the bodies. Let’s put them to rest. And keep my damn flask away from the fire, obviously.” Bobby starts up the stairs. He stops and looks back at the trio. “Well, you coming?”

A couple of hours, the trio walks out of the house. Annie had been given the hunter’s funeral she had desired and the rest of the bodies had also been burned. “I’ll miss her,” Bobby says as Dean opens the trunk and they toss their gear in.

Dean nods. “Me too.”

“Yeah,” Sam adds and Addison nods in agreement.

“Well, you didn’t know her like I did,” Bobby tells them.

Dean chuckles. “Well, uh…” He pulls out Bobby’s flask from his jacket pocket. “Here’s to Annie. She got the hunter’s funeral she wanted.” He takes a swig and stares at the flask. “Kind of like the one we thought we gave you.”

“Dean,” Addison softly begins.

“What were you thinking, Bobby,” Dean questions, looking at the former hunter. “You could be in Heaven right now, drinking beer at Hervelle’s, not - not stuck—”

“Stuck here with you,” Bobby interrupts. “We still have work to do. I just thought that was kind of important, Dean.”

“It’s not right. You know that.”

“Sorry. You’re right. What was I thinking?”

Bobby vanishes with a flash. The boys exchange a look before Dean tosses the flask into the trunk and slams it closed. Sam shifts. “So, what do you think we should do,” he asks.

“We did what should do,” Dean tells him. “Now, I don’t know.”

“I mean, do you think it’s possible we could, I don’t know, make it all work somehow?”

“I have no idea. Maybe. I’ve never heard of it. But you know what I do know? It ain’t the natural order of things. Everything is supposed to end. You know, he was supposed…” Addison places a comforting hand on Dean’s arm. “And now…what are the odds this ends well? What are the odds?”


	21. The Girl with the Dungeons and Dragon Tattoo

“Yeah, I hear you,” Sam says, pacing around Rufus’ cabin. All the research that had been done on Dick Roman was hanging on one of the walls. Addison was sitting on the couch with her laptop while Dean was reviewing what they had found so far. “All right. Well, thanks for looking. Yep. Bye.” Sam hangs up his phone and takes a seat next to Addison. “So, Nora didn’t see any pattern to the dig sites either.”

“Yeah, cause they got nothing in common,” Dean replies, sitting on the arm of the couch. “And I got nothing from local lore fifty miles in every direction of all of them. I mean, it’s like they’re just…old dirt. What’s Dick looking for?” He pulls out the flask and takes a swig.

The lights in the room flicker. The boys stand up, pulling out their guns. Bobby appears and they aim their guns at him. “Hey, hey,” Bobby greets. “Go easy, you idjits.” The boys lower their guns. “Sorry for the jump scare.”

“So how does this work? I leave the cap off and you just genie your way out?”

“I wish it were that easy. The thing—” Bobby’s cut off when he vanishes suddenly.

The boys exchange a look as Addison glances around the room. “Bobby,” Sam calls out.

Bobby reappears in the kitchen of the cabin. “Damn it,” he lets out. “It’s hard to stay focused. I’m still kind of worn out.” 

“You’ve been pretty busy for a dead guy,” Dean tells him.

“All right, listen. I don’t know how long before my next ghost nap, so let’s just skip to the skinny. Those numbers I gave you—”

“The empty lot in Cheeseville?”

“Yeah, well, it ain’t gonna be empty for long. I got a gander at Dick’s big plan, right before he Lincolned me. They’re breaking ground…” Bobby frowns. “What month is this?”

“April,” Addison answers.

Bobby sighs. “Ground’s broke. They’re building as we’re yammering. Check it out yourself. It’s all right. You guys missed it because you’ve been kind of busy killing ghosts the past few days. But Dick is about to get into the Soylent Green business.” Sam sits down at the table with his laptop. “That site will show you they’re building a biotech lab. Right? Biotech my ass. That suck is a state of the art slaughterhouse. And we’re the beef.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little bold, even for Dick,” Sam questions.

“I bet you no one will even notice. Cause first, he’s gonna dumb us all down with turducken style munchies. Make us docile.”

“Yeah, we haven’t been to Biggerson’s since that whole fiasco,” Dean tells him.

“Biggerson’s? He’s brought a list of joints ten pages long.” Dean nods, sitting down at the table with Sam. “Next, he’s gonna cure us.”

“Cure us,” Addison asks.

“All the biggies. Cancer, AIDS, heart disease. Let’s just say they got an affinity for stem cell research.”

“The, uh, leviathan real estate mooks, building that cancer center,” Dean reminds.

“They’re not hunting anymore. They’re engineering the perfect herd. Now, we’ve gone up against plenty that liked to eat a few folk in the woods. This ain’t that. This is about knocking us off the top of the food chain. This about them Levis living here forever, one percenter style, while we march our dopey, fat asses down to the shiny new death camps at every corner.”

A beep comes from Addison’s computer. She frowns, reading the notification in the corner. “Guys, we got an email from Frank,” she tells them, opening the email.

“Frank’s alive,” Dean asks, moving to stand behind her.

“That jackass, always stealing my thunder,” Bobby jokingly complains.

“‘Addison, Sam, and Dean, if you’re reading this I’m dead…or worse. This email was sent because some prince is trying to hack into my hard drive right this second. So unless it’s you, you got trouble,’” Addison reads. “Lovely. ‘My drive is full of comprising info. Your new aliases, hangouts, where you stored your car—”

“Baby,” Dean asks.

“Your car is probably fine,” Addison reassures. “Despite the fact that Frank encrypted his hard drive, we should assume that someone will eventually hack it. Oh. He put a tracking device in it.” She clicks the link and a new website with a satellite map opens. She zooms in on the pin to reveal that Frank’s hard drive was at Richard Roman Enterprises.

“Perfect,” Dean says. “It’s in the middle of the Death Star. All right, well, off to Chicago.”

“No, wait,” Bobby says as Dean stands up. “You three can’t just break in. They know your mugs. What if we mailed in the flask? Then I could ghost through the joint. I mean, it’s not like Dick can kill me twice.” The trio exchanges a look. “What, you got a better plan? Come on. Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I don’t know how to do my damn job.”

Sam sighs. “Bobby, that’s Dick’s office.”

“I think what Sam’s trying to say is, what happens if you run into Dick and, you know, go vengeful. You know, it’s not something you can just shake off,” Dean clarifies.

“Come on,” Bobby argues. “Give me some credit. What? I’m supposed to just ride the pine?”

“Sorry, Bobby,” Sam tells him, closing his laptop and walking away. Addison shoots the former hunter an apologetic smile before closing her laptop and disappearing towards the bedrooms. Dean sighs, following them.

* * *

“This is such a bad idea,” Addison mutters as they walk up to the apartment of Charlene Bradbury. She ignores the annoyed look Dean sends her. She had barely missed the fact that Frank’s hard drive had managed to hack the web-cam of the hacker decrypting his hard drive. They reach the apartment and Sam kneels down in front of the door. After picking the lock, they quietly slip in. Addison smiles, seeing the shelf of Star Wars bobble heads. Hearing a voice, they duck into a nearby room. 

Dean steps out of the hiding spot as a red headed woman opens the door. Her hair was a couple shades darker than Addison’s and she was about the same height as the hunter. Dean presses down on the door, slamming it shut. “It’s all right. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The woman grabs a sword off a display next to the door. “Get away from me, you…shapeshifter.”

“We’re not shapeshifters,” Sam says, walking over to them. Charlie slams the sword into Sam’s side and it breaks in half.

“This is why we should always go with my plan,” Addison mutters, moving around Dean.

Dean glares at her. He grabs the fake sword out of the woman’s hand and tosses it behind him. “We’re not leviathans. Okay. You want us to prove it?” He pulls the bottle of industrial cleaner out of his jacket. “You know what borax does to them?”

“Yeah,” Charlie timidly replies.

“Sam? Ads?” They each hold out a hand and Dean splashes a bit of the cleaner on them before splashing some on his own hand. “Your turn.” Charlie takes the cleaner from and splashes some on her hand. “Good,” Dean replies, taking the bottle back. 

“Who the hell are you guys,” Charlie asks, looking between the three of them. 

Addison shoots her a soft smile. “I’m Addison Sloan and these are Sam and Dean Winchester,” she introduces, pointing out who was who as they sit down in Charlie’s living room. “And…we hunt monsters. If you can imagine it up, we’ve probably killed it.”

“So, you’re saying that you guys are monster hunters? So there are other monsters,” Charlie questions, pacing. Dean opens his mouth to answer. “Stop. Never mind. Just…Okay, I get how you tracked the drive. Straight GPS. But it’s still at the office. How did you find me?” Sam clears his throat and opens Addison’s laptop. He pulls up a video of Charlie sitting at her desk. “Ugh. Son of a gun jacked my webcam?”

“Welcome to Frank,” Dean tells her.

“That’s creepy, but I’ll give it to him. So, you’re telling me everything he had on his drive is true?”

“That and more.”

“Wait,” Sam asks. “How long did it take you to crack into Frank’s drive?”

“A day or so.”

“Is there anything you can’t hack into?”

“Not yet.”

“How about Dick Roman’s email?”

“Why would I…” Charlie trails off in realization. “Oh. He’s one of them.”

“No. Uh, he’s their leader.”

“So, what’s the end game? Steal our resources, make us some slaves?”

“Planet wide value meal,” Dean answers. “We’re the meat.”

“You can’t be…serious. Okay. All right. Let’s do this. What am I looking for?”

Charlie sits down at her kitchen table and the trio joins her. Addison smiles seeing the Lord of the Ring character on her desktop. “Well, for starters, uh, anything about archaeological dig sites,” Dean tells her. 

“Like Indiana Jones stuff?”

"All we know is that Dick’s been digging all over the world and we need to know what he’s looking for.”

“You know, I was having a really good week. I met someone. Downloaded the new Robyn album. Everything was coming up me. Oh, crap.”

“Look,” Sam begins. “We get it sucks—”

“No, not that. This. Dick’s email isn’t on the company server. It’s on a private one. In his office.”

“Meaning,” Dean questions.

“You can’t get in it unless you have his phone or you’re at his desk.”

“So, you’re saying that if we’re inside Dick’s office, then we can hack into his email?”

“You can’t. Only someone like…” Charlie trials off. “But I sure as hell ain’t doing it. I am doing my job and…what are the chances I see everything on that drive and Dick lets me live anyway?”

“I think you know the answer to that,” Addison softly says.

“So I erase the drive first, protect me and you. Then I go back to my old life, right?” The trio exchanges a look. “What?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dean tells the hacker. “You’re on Dick’s radar, which means you don’t have an old life anymore.”

“I’m gonna die. I should have taken that job at Google.”

Sam sighs. “Look, Charlie, it’s okay if you can’t do it. I mean, you didn’t volunteer for this.”

“Totally. Exactly. But now I volunteer.”

Sam stares. “What?”

“I got to go back in anyways to wipe Frank’s drive. Might as well break into Dick’s office too.”

Addison frowns. “Charlie, are you sure about this?”

“No. But these things are gonna eat everyone I know. What kind of douchebag stands by for that? However, I have never broken into anything in real life before, so, plan?”

“You got a Bluetooth,” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Charlie answers as the trio joins her at her small dining room table.

“Security system, can you get into that?”

“I can reroute any surveillance cameras we need.”

“All right. Let’s start with that.”

“Do you have a keycard to get into the building,” Sam questions.

“Uh, yeah, I can’t duplicate it, but I can make a fake backing, so it’ll let me in but won’t be logged into the system,” Charlie tells them.

* * *

Addison runs a hand through her hair, pulling it into a messy ponytail as she waited with Sam in the back of a black van they had borrowed. The back door opens and she watches as Dean climbs into the van. “How’s it going,” he questions.

“Great, since she set all this up,” Sam answers, referring to the laptop that Charlie had set up. Multiple shots from the security cameras inside Roman Enterprises was displayed on the screen. “Um, look.” He brings up a static shot of one of the security feeds. “See this? I can put each camera on a prerecorded loop. Once I do that, she’ll have fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes ain’t a lot of time.”

“Charlie said that if it look her longer to hack his desktop, then she deserved to be eaten,” Addison explains.

Dean nods. “I like her.”

Addison shakes her head. “No.” Dean shoots her a disbelieving look and she shrugs. “What? I like her too. So, no, you can’t fuck this new found friendship we have with a hacker by trying to sleep with her. Even Sam agrees with me on this.”

“I’m staying out of this,” Sam tells them, holding his hands up.

Dean opens his mouth to argue, but stops upon noticing something on the security footage. “Wait. Is that…son of a bitch.”

Sam and Addison exchange a confused look. “What,” Sam asks.

“Look at her bag.”

Addison zooms in on the screen and they easily make out the flask in the side pocket of Charlie’s bag. “Bobby.”

“Wait. You think he, uh…” Sam trails off.

“Hitched a ride after we told him to cool his jets,” Dean finishes. “Yeah. What the fuck’s he thinking?”

“He’s not. So what do we do? Call the whole thing off?”

“This is our only chance,” Addison argues.

Dean picks up his phone and dials Charlie’s number. “Charlie, it’s Dean.” He frowns as a singing echoes through the van. “Are you singing?”

“I sing when I’m nervous,” Charlie tells them. “Don’t judge me.”

“Judgement free zone. Listen, uh, check the side pocket in your bag.”

Charlie search through her bag. “Oh. Thank you.” They watch as she pulls out the flask and takes a swig from it. “Mmm. Good idea.”

“Yeah, no problem. Look, that’s uh, kind of a family heirloom. It’s a good luck charm, okay, so don’t lose it.”

“Copy that. Okay. Let’s do this.”

The trio exchanges a look as Charlie remains still. “Um, Charlie,” Addison beings.

“I’m having a hard time moving.”

“You can do this,” Dean tells her.

“Uh, I’m not — I’m not a spy. No, I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

Sam takes the phone out of Dean’s hand. “Charlie, hey, it’s Sam.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry. I — I just…”

“It’s okay. Uh, listen, w-who’s your favorite Harry Potter character?”

“Uh, Hermione.”

“Hermione. Well, uh, all right, did Hermione run when Sirius Black was in trouble or when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts?”

Dean and Addison stare at Sam. “Seriously,” Dean whispers.

“Shut up,” Sam snaps.

“No, of course not,” Charlie answers.

“What did she do?”

“She kicked ass. She actually saves Harry in practically every book. And then she ends up with the wrong person,” Charlie rambles.

“Damn straight,” Addison agrees, ignoring the look Dean sends her. “She should’ve ended up with Harry. Not Ron. Hell, even Draco—”

“Uh, stay on track, guys,” Sam interrupts. “Okay, so she kicked ass, right? So, then what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna kick it in the ass,” Charlie replies.”

Sam smiles. “Good girl.”

“Oh, you go, dumble-dorks,” Dean mutters. Addison lightly hits his arm and he shoots her an annoyed look. The trio grows quiet as they watch Charlie enter the building. Charlie makes her way to the elevator and goes to the floor she works on before stepping off. Sam hits a button on the hacker’s computer and they watch as she steps back into the elevator.

“I’m in,” Charlie says. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

“You’re on the clock,” Dean reminds. “Move.”

They watch as Charlie rides the elevator up to the floor Dick Roman’s office was on and steps out. “Hey, there’s a big ass guard up here, blocking the door. What do I do,” Charlie quietly asks.

“Just wait him out.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

“Okay, uh, you work there every day. Do you know the guy?”

Charlie shrugs on the camera. “I guess. I mean, I’ve seen him.I’ve never talked to him.”

“Okay, when you’ve seen him, does he look at you or does he just kind of slide his eyes by?”

“Um…eye contact? I don’t know. He always kind of smiles a bit. I don’t really—”

“Good. What you’re gonna do is you’re gonna walk right up to him and you’re gonna flirt your way past.”

“I can’t. He’s not my type.”

Dean closes his eyes. ”You're gonna have to play through.”

“As in he’s not a girl,” Charlie clarifies.

“Oh, oh," Dean replies, exchanging a look with Sam and Addison. “Pretend he has boobs.” Addison smacks Dean’s shoulder, shooting him a disbelieving look.

“Worse.”

“Well, I don’t know. Um...do you have any tattoos? Give him a little sneak peek there. All tattoos are sexy."

“Mine is Princess Leia in a slave bikini straddling a twenty sided die. I was drunk. It was Comic Con.”

“We’ve all been there.” Dean takes a deep breath. He glances at his brother and Addison, but knows they’re not going to give him any help. “Okay, I’m gonna walk you through this. Start with a smile.” They watch as Charlie walks off screen. “Relax, Charlie. You just got home and Scarlett Johansson’s waiting for you.”

“Can I help you, miss,” the security guard asks over the phone.

“Hey…Bill. Charlie from I.T.,” Charlie replies.

“Oh. Burning the midnight oil, huh?”

“Just like you -  I mean, when you’re not at the gym. What, do you work out with all your free time,” Dean says and Charlie repeats to the guard. Addison exchanges an amused look with Sam.

“I try to get to the gym at least three days a week,” the guard replies. “Just trying to get back to my fighting weight, you know?”

“It shows. You look amazing,” Dean says. He covers the phone with his hand. “This never happened,” he whispers to them. He uncovers the phone. “Do you ever do anything else with your free time, like take a girl out for a drink?” Sam lets out a laugh. “Stop laughing, Sammy.”

“Stop laughing, Sammy,” Charlie says. “Um, you don’t know that bar, Stop Laughing Sammy? That place is bringing sexy back. Which is easy—”

“Stop talking, Charlie!”

“Cause they kept the receipt. Stop talking, Charlie,” Charlie continues, then winces in realization. “Right. So, um, you were saying about going out, drinks?”

“Um, yeah, yeah. That’d be great,” the guard awkwardly replies.

“Cool. Pencil that in,” Dean says then Charlie repeats it. “Hey, can I ask you a favor? The ladies’ room downstairs is nasty. Can I use the exec washroom to powder my nose?”

“Yeah, yeah. Why not? Um, it's right down the hall. It’s the first door on the right.”

“I feel dirty,” Charlie mutters as she walks past the ladies’ bathroom.

“You and me both, sister,” Dean tells her.

“The eagle is landing. Going radio silent.”

“Let us know when you’re out.”

“So, guess we just wait,” Sam asks, looking between Dean and Addison.

“Yeah.”

“Nice flirting with that guard,” Addison amusedly says. Dean shoots her an unamused look. “You’re definitely getting some after that.”

“Fuck you.”

“I don’t think your date for the night would like that very much.” 

A silence settles over the van. Dean and Addison watch the security footage, waiting for Charlie to pop back up on screen while Sam busies himself with filling jars with cleaning solution. “Well, this is awesome,” Dean says, breaking the silence. “You know what? New plan. From now on, we just stay in the van and send in the ninety pound girl.”

“Dean, every chopper on Earth knows our face,” Sam argues. “How many do you think are in that building? We wouldn’t make it past the lobby.”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I got to be happy about sending in freaking Veronica Mars.”

“Dean, she’ll be fine,” Addison reassures. “And if not, then we’ll go in.”

“And get as far as we can. Damn right.”

“Hey, guys,” Charlie’s voice says over the speaker phone.

“Hey.”

“Sending you all the flagged dig files now.”

“Charlie, you are a genius,” Sam exclaims as the files start appearing on the computer. 

“I know. It’s a problem. Damn it.” The trio exchanges a confused look. “Hey, Pete! Guess we’re both on deadline, huh?”

“How’s it going,” a male voice asks.

“Good, good. I’ll give you a full progress report in a few hours.”

“Great. Hit that deadline, right? Well, holler if you need anything.”

“Hey, guys, you still there?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies. “What the hell was that?”

“Oh, just my manager, the monster.”

“Leave.”

“I can’t. I got to act normal. I told him I was working. Let’s just finish this.” Sam starts looking through the files that Charlie had sent them. “Are you seeing this?”

“It looks like Dick stopped digging days ago,” Sam responds. 

“Why?”

“Maybe he found what he was looking for,” Addison suggests.’

“Can you check," Dean questions.

“Way ahead of you,” Charlie tells them. “Looking at travel reports, expenses. Here we go. Something in his suitcase left Iran last week. Spent the last seventy-two hours in armored cars and private planes. Whatever it is, it’s coming here for Dick tonight. So, what the hell is it?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it is, he wants it bad, which means we got to grab it, end of story.”

“Well, it’s landing at a private airport near here. Crap. Right about now. A courier’s set to pick it up.”

“What’s the exact landing time?”

“Forty-two minutes. Can you make it?”

“We can try,” Dean replies as Sam looks at a map between their current location and the airport. “Uh, all right, Charlie, one more favor, and then get the hell out of there.”

“What do you need?”

“More time.”

“Then let’s get you some. Travel department’s e-mailing Dick. Suitcase still en route, but diverted by weather and will be thirty minutes late. I’ll finish mopping you guys off the drive and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“Call us when you’re clear.”

“Text you from the border, bro.”

* * *

Addison climbs out of the beat up car as the boys rejoin her. She had stayed behind while they went to retrieve the Dick Roman’s package. She opens the trunk and Dean drops the silver hardshell briefcase in the trunk. “So, what now,” she asks, looking between the boys.

“See what we’ve won,” Dean replies. He opens the briefcase and finds something wrapped in a black cloth. He uncovers it to reveal a hunk of clay. 

“Did we just steal a - a hunk of red clay,” Sam questions.

“That’s a good question. Why don’t we answer that a few thousand miles away from here, though? Now, where is Charlie?”

Addison sighs. “She hasn’t called yet.”

The trio climbs into the car and races over to Dick Roman’s office building. They run up to the doors as they see Charlie fly across the room. They rush through the broken glass doors. “Dean, he’s one of them,” the hacker shouts. Dean tosses a jar of cleaning solution onto the other man. Brown smoke steams from the leviathan’s face. Sam punches the security guard as Addison runs over to Charlie.

“That would explain it,” Dick mocks. “You’re having with the wrong crowd, kiddo.” Sam joins Addison and scoops up Charlie. They start towards the door but stop when Dick moves in front of them. Bobby appears and sends Dick flying across the room. Bobby flickers before vanishing. “All right, enough! Show yourself. Let’s do this like real monsters.”

“Dean, we need to go,” Addison says, grabbing his arm as an invisible force shoves Dick back onto the ground. They run out to the car and climb in before speeding away.

“Charlie, talk to us,” Dean says, glancing in the rearview mirror. Addison and Charlie were sitting in the backseat while Sam was in his customary seat in the front. “You okay?”

“No. Why didn’t you kill him,” Charlie asks.

“Cause we can’t yet,” Sam answers. “But we will.”

“The really evil ones always need a special sword. Oh, okay. I’m gonna pass out now.” Charlie gently falls onto Addison’s lap and the hunter lets out a sigh.

* * *

“I left your dumb flask on the back seat, by the way,” Charlie says as they walk out of the bus terminal. Her right arm was in a sling as the fall she had experience had fractured the bone. “Worst good luck charm ever.”

“Here you go,” Dean says, handing the hacker her duffle back.

“Thanks.”

“So, listen, um, we can’t thank you enough,” Sam tells her.

“Actually, you can. Never contact me again, like, ever. Deal?”

Addison laughs as she shakes Charlie’s hand. “Deal.”

“Keep your head down out there, okay,” Dean says, shaking her hand.

“This ain’t the first time I’ve disappeared. You think my name is really Charlie Bradbury? Please. So, good luck saving the world,” Charlie replies. She holds up a hand in the Vulcan salute. “Peace out, bitches.” 

They watch as Charlie hands her back to the attendant stowing luggage before climbing onto the bus. “She’s kind of the like the little sister I never wanted,” Dean comments.

“We got to talk,” Sam says. 

“What? You mean before we get back to the car and the flask?”

“Yeah. What exactly happened back in that lobby, Dean,” Addison questions.

“Man, if I had a free shot, I’d have bitch slapped the fuck out of Dick.”

“Yeah, but, I mean,” Sam trails off. “Charlie got her fucking arm broken.”

“He didn’t mean to do it.”

“Exactly. He’s not in control, not about Dick. That was vengeful spirit shit.”

“I know. But it’s still Bobby.”

“But if he really goes there, he won’t be anymore, and then we won’t be able to pull him back. And then what are we supposed to do?”

“I know. Look, let’s just figure out what that thing we stole is, and then we’ll figure out what the hell to do with Bobby.”


End file.
